Tick Tock Goes the Clock
by Beatle Bun
Summary: Sebastian moves in with his dad when he can't live in Paris anymore. However, his dad just lost his job and isn't coping very well. He ends up taking care of his drunken and abusive father, until he can't take it anymore. He ends up in a shelter where Kurt works a summer job. Read warnings at the top of the first chapter first!
1. Chapter 1

**Warnings:** Domestic abuse (both emotional and physical), language, (mention of) rape, emotional infidelity, mental instability, sex

* * *

"Sebastian Benjamin Smythe," a low voice roars as Sebastian reaches for the doorknob. He holds it, but doesn't turn it, instead he waits for the voice to continue.

"If you walk out that door right now, it's over."

It sounds tempting, really, to just open the door and leave. Have it all be over, right then and there. But it doesn't work like that and Sebastian knows it. It isn't over, it won't ever be over, even if it is. It sounds cryptic, even in Sebastian's mind, but it makes sense. It makes almost too much sense and he doesn't trust it. It won't be over, it isn't over and it's not going to be over.

Sebastian doesn't even know for sure if he wants it to be over. If it's over it means he has nowhere to live, nowhere to go to. Nowhere to hide, really.

He'll think of something, he'll cover up the bruises and he'll tell people he had the flu for a few days. He knows he's staying, he knows he's not going anywhere, but still he keeps his hand on the doorknob. This time it's not him, he's not going to be the one to apologize first.

Sebastian is always the one who apologizes first, and granted he's mostly the one in the wrong, he's never the one to start a fight. So no, this time he's not the first to turn around.

He won't bury himself in those familiar arms and cry and say _I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I'll never do it ever again._

This time, he needs to hear those words before he'll utter them himself. _I'm sorry Sebastian, I won't do it ever again._

He's heard it countless times, he's heard them from his mouth, from his own mouth, he's heard them when they were meant to be true, he's heard them when he still believed in them and when he hears them now he knows it will be a week or two before that promise is broken.

The promise is always broken.

He doesn't know why he lets it get this far, he used to be strong and independent. He used to live in freaking Paris and now he lives here, in thisshabby apartment with this man he doesn't even really love and still, he does everything this man tells him to.

He bends to his every wish, he makes sure he's quiet when he gets home, he makes sure to keep the beer in fridge. He fucking provides for this man and still he orders Sebastian around like Sebastian is a lost little boy. Which, just maybe, he is.

Sebastian starts counting the ticks of the great grandfather clock in the corner of the single room apartment, most likely the only valuable thing they own, which includes themselves. Sebastian isn't valuable, not anymore.

He counts, _1.. 2.. 3.. 4.._

Nothing happens. Not daring to glance over his shoulder over to the double bed in the corner, the one where he knows someone's staring at him, he counts on.

_5.. 6.. 7.. 8.._

He hears movement behind him, shifting, but he keeps focused on the ticking of the clock, he promises himself that he'll leave, actually leave, if he reaches 60.

_33.. 34..35.. 36.._

Footsteps, coming closer, but still no voice apologizing. His hand on the doorknob tightens, completely ready to open it.

_40.. 41.. 42.. 43_

A heavy hand on his shoulder, it's a relief.

It's a burden.

_44.. 45.. 46.. 47.._

"Sebastian."

This time it's whispered and it's affectionate, it's the voice for which Sebastian will melt, any time of any day.

He doesn't need an apology, he doesn't need to hear those words, because he knows he is needed here.

If he leaves it's over. It can't be over, not more for him than for this man.

"I'm sorry daddy."

_51.. 52.. 53.. 54.._

There's still time for his father to make the final move. Sebastian's hand is still tight on the doorknob and his father has still not told him he's sorry.

"I know, son," his father says as he pulls Sebastian away from the door.

For a moment Sebastian's grip tightens, but eventually the hand on his shoulder is stronger than his will to change things, so instead he lets go and turns around, straight into his father's arms.

_57.. 58.. 59.. 60_

The minute is over, he's had his chance and there was no apology yet. Sebastian should leave. He will leave.

He relaxes in his father's arms, they're strong and warm and strangely comforting for someone who just gave him a black eye.

"Don't ever pull that on me again, do you hear me?"

The words sound venomous, and sends shivers down Sebastian's spine like they do each day, with every word that comes out of his dad's mouth. Only this time it's stronger, more real.

Worse.

"Don't you dare leave me."

"I won't," Sebastian hears himself say, "I won't leave you daddy, I'll stay right here."

Where is here? What does his father mean, here in his arms, here in this dodgy apartment? Here in Lima, Ohio?

"Let's get you some ice," his father says hoarsely as he pulls back from the hug reluctantly, crossing the dirty room towards the small fridge. The fridge that contains only uneaten microwavable food.

"Want some beer with that ice?" his father asks nonchalantly, as if it's the most normal thing in the world to offer your seventeen year old son, whom you've just given a black eye. A beer to go with the ice for said black eye.

"No, thank you," Sebastian mutters.

The clock is still ticking, far beyond 60 now, no apology.

"Come on, it's Saturday," his dad says, "it's not like you're driving back to Dalton in the morning."

Dalton. His safe place, home.

"I don't really feel like drinking right now," Sebastian mutters.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing."

"Act like a normal teenager and drink this fucking beer, Sebastian."

So of course, he takes the bottle from his dad and opens it. He reluctantly drinks, he doesn't want to drink. He needs his head to be clear if his dad is going to drink anymore. His dad, whom he once idolized. Who he still idolizes. Doesn't every seventeen year old idolize his dad?

When his dad gets up to use the small bathroom on the foot of the bed, Sebastian almost empties his beer bottle in the sink. Not completely, his dad would never believe he drank that much in such a short amount of time.

He starts counting the ticks of the clock again. It's a thing he does now, the ticks of the clock keep him grounded, give him a sense of time.

He counts and counts and counts.

_360.. 361.. 362.. 363_

Sebastian thinks his dad might take a while longer, now he hears the shower run, so he throws the entirety of his bottle down the drain, busying himself with his brand new iPhone.

Better make sure his dad doesn't see it, he would probably just throw it against the wall and yell at Sebastian for still taking gifts from his mother.

He knows his dad doesn't agree with anything to do with his mom, hardly agrees to have her pay for Dalton, so he knows better than to tell his dad he only drives his shabby old car around the corner, where is BMW is parked to drive to school. He doesn't tell his father he has this brand new iPhone, nor that he has a MacBook in his room at Dalton.

Sometimes Sebastian thinks his dad is onto something when he comes home with proper food or enough beer to keep him happy for a week, but then he'll mutter _little slut,_punch him in the ribs and take the alcohol without a thank you. It should probably hurt Sebastian that his father is willing to take beer if Sebastian had sex for it, rather than when Sebastian uses his mom's money, but it doesn't. Not anymore.

_987.. 988..989..990.._

The clock ticks on and on and the shower is still running. Sebastian knows the water has run cold by now and decides that, if the shower is still running by 1000 he'll go knock on the door and ask his father if he needs anything.

No asking if something's wrong, because the word wrong would mean weakness and Sebastian will never ever imply to his dad he could be weak. He's not sure if he would survive if he did.

_997.. 998..999..1000.._

He scoots over to the foot of the bed, where he can reach the door and knocks on it softly.

"Daddy? Do you need anything?"

No answer.

"Daddy, do you want me to get you a towel?"

Still no answer, but the clock keeps ticking.

_1020.. 1021.. 1022.. 1023.._

"Dad, if you do not answer me in twenty seconds, I'm opening the door."

When that doesn't receive an answer immediately, Sebastian knows he's going to have to open the door, probably haul his father off the floor and into the bed. He's done it numerous times before, which is saying something - he's only lived with his dad since June.

_1040.. 1041.. 1042.. 1043_

Sebastian opens the door and finds his dad stark naked in a pool of sick, cold water still running over his body. He half laughs to himself, thinking how everyone at school is so quick to believe his dad is state senate Smythe. Oh, if only they knew.

He takes the shower head off the wall, winces as he knows it's freezing, but still washes the puke off his father's body before turning the water off.

"Come on," he says as he hollers his father up on his feet. Not that his father will wake up, the man is too far gone.

He hoists his dad arm over his shoulder and drags his dad out into the smelly room where fruit is rotting away on the small kitchenette counter, and dumps his dad on the bed rudely. It's not like the guy will wake up from anything right now.

He walks around the bed to make it easier getting his dad in a comfortable position. It drags a groan out of the man's mouth, but still no waking up. It's good he's groaning, though, something to know he isn't actually dead.

Sebastian towels his dad dry gently, with a towel that must not have been washed since Sebastian first moved in, maybe he should get on that. It's only seven pm after all, he should go to the launderette at the end of the road.

Yes, maybe he'll do that.

First he dresses his father, makes sure he is warm and comfortable. The man had just spend over ten minutes under a cold shower, after all. He gets some sweatpants that smell around the man's legs, takes one of his Dalton hoodies out of his suitcase and pulls it over his dad's head. It's nice, warm and clean, just came back from Dalton's dry cleaning. After Sebastian has pulled the hoodie completely down, his dad sighs and it's almost content as far as he can tell. He pulls his legs up and lies in fetal position, giving Sebastian the chance to take the duvet at pull it completely over his dad's limp and unconscious body.

Another 600 ticks of the clock have gone by when Sebastian is absolutely sure his father is comfortable, warm and unconscious enough to not notice Sebastian moving around the room frantically.

First he takes every single piece of clothing that is scattered over the floor and throws it by the door, to take with him. Then he empties the entire closet next to the bed, though silently and careful to not wake his father, and throws it by the rest of the clothes at the door.

Following to that he takes the suitcase he took home from Dalton and puts all his neat, clean clothes in his side of the closet. What his dad called his side of the closet on his first day back in Lima. It had maybe lasted two days before the entire closet was a complete mess. Two days before Sebastian noticed something was going on.

Of course, he'd known his dad had recently lost his job and that he wouldn't live as luxurious as in Paris, but it had been his choice because of Dalton, his dad had attended Dalton and it seemed like a good choice for him now, after what happened in Paris. Safe, and a home he didn't have in Paris anymore.

So he packed his bags and got on a plane to his dad. His father had warned him, told him things weren't looking up in Lima, that the economy was bad and he had lost his job. Sebastian didn't think much of it, it was only temporary to him, until his dad would find a new job and have enough money to rent a two bedroom apartment. He wouldn't ask for much, just a room for himself. Still, even if it wasn't much to ask for it was still too much. It took Sebastian about a week to find out his dad was a drunk, fridge full of beer and two bottles of Jack on top of it. There were uneaten meals next to all the bottles, and when those uneaten meals were still there three weeks later, Sebastian was pretty sure his dad lived on booze and pizza alone.

So now he is here, almost finding it normal to stand on top of three pizza boxes, with half uneaten pizza's in them, throwing dirty sticking clothes onto a pile by the door. It's not even a large pile, it will probably all fit into one machine because his dad doesn't own much, but it's still a pile of _all his clothes_that need to be washed.

As gentle as he can, Sebastian strips the duvet from its cover, then he starts on one side of the bed to take of the sheet, before rolling his father over and getting to the other side. It's not even that hard to do it without his father waking up. The man is so out of it he probably wouldn't even wake if the epicenter of an earthquake was right under his bed.

They own no pillows, so there's no pillow case to strip and Sebastian dumps all the dirty laundry in his gorgeous leather suitcase. The one he brought home from Paris. Okay, yes, so they have two valuable things in this place, his suitcase and the ticking grandfather clock.

He zips the suitcase up, equally as quiet as he packed it, grabs his keys and walks out the door towards the launderette.

It's easy now, to just leave the house with his dad's stuff in his suitcase. He can leave without feeling guilty because he knows he'll be back before his dad wakes up.

Funny how not an hour ago he was almost ready to leave for good, and now he's taking care of this man again. Of course he is, he always will.

Sure, it's been only eleven months since he started to, but this man needs him and he needs this man. Sebastian knows he won't leave, not right now. Not as long as his dad is at rock bottom. Deep down he knows that's going to be a long time if they don't find any help, but they don't need any help. They'll get through it.

Sebastian will cover up his bruises and keep his father content, keep the beer flowing and the vodka in stock. He'll do stuff like he's doing right now, laundry and cleaning the room once his father is passed out. He knows there is a price to pay, but it's a price he's willing to pay to keep this man alive and well. As well as he can keep him, that is.

So he'll go out like he does now, with a black eye hoping he won't run into anyone he knows, taking his dad's laundry to get cleaned (only his dad's laundry, because his own he gets cleaned during the week at Dalton). He'll drop by the store to get some solid food to put in the fridge and then he'll get back to the launderette to put the washed clothes in the dryer, before he returns home with fresh sheets and clothes and puts them away.

After he's done all that, he grabs a garbage bag and throws away all the pizza and pizza boxes that are lying around, the rotting fruit goes with it, and the beer bottles too. He knows he isn't supposed to put glass in the trash but he does it anyway, they have to go and he doesn't have the luxury to be picky right now.

It's 9pm when he looks around the small room rather satisfied. Sure, the floor is still sticky with old knocked over beer and the flies that were hovering over the rotten fruit haven't completely disappeared, but the trash is gone and so are the filthy clothes that were scattered around the room. His dad can live for another week.

He changes into his pajamas before he takes the sheet and duvet cover out of his suitcase and he puts it back on the bed as carefully as he took it off two hours before. His dad won't even notice it was gone, probably won't notice at all that they are clean.

Sebastian contemplates getting another pair than just this one, so he doesn't have to take the risk to wake his father up in the taking it off and putting in on the bed anymore, but so far his dad has never noticed, so getting a second pair would probably just be suspicious.

He crawls into bed next to his dad, opens the small window, the only window they have, above the bed to get some fresh air into the room and flops down, using his arm as a pillow. He lies on his left side, his right eye is still throbbing with pain since he didn't actually put the ice on it for that long. It's uncomfortable, he lies on the edge of the bed as far away from his dad as possible, but somehow sleep claims him very soon.

Even if he fell asleep at no later than 9.15 pm, he wakes up rather late the next day. His dad is already up and sitting at the edge of the bed, nursing an almost empty bottle of beer.

Sebastian groans softly when he tries to turn onto his right side, his eye isn't throbbing anymore but it still hurts a lot. The sound makes his dad turn around and look at him.

"You going back to Dalton tonight?"

Sebastian wants to say _good morning to you too,_it's what he would've said to his mom if that's what she had said first thing in the morning, but his dad is not his mom and so he doesn't say it.

"Depends," he says instead, "on what you want."

His dad shrugs as if he doesn't care, but Sebastian knows he does, knows his dad doesn't want him to go to Dalton at all and at the same time wants him gone.

"Guess it's better if you drive tomorrow morning," his dad says, "give your eye some time to heal, it won't look as bad in the morning."

Sebastian nods, choking back his words on how bruises actually work. On how it might be bright purple and looking super painful now, he wants to tell his dad that tomorrow it will be five different shades of yellow, green and black and it will look worse but he doesn't. He knows better than to argue with his dad about the injuries that were caused by him.

"Why did you clean up?"

_Because it was necessary, because one day you'll slip over an unfinished pizza and break your leg, because it smelled, because it's unhealthy._

"Dunno."

"How the fuck do you get through Dalton if you don't even know why you clean up."

"I just thought it would be nice."

"I can take care of myself, Sebastian."

He wants to yell, tell his dad he can't. He wants to dare his father to prove it._Prove it, show me that you can take care of yourself. Get a new job, lay down the beer._

"I know."

"You have to stop his fucking game you're playing with me." His dad says it with such venom that Sebastian knows to run. Now. Get as far away as he can.

Instead, he finds himself unable to move from the bed.

"I'm sorry," he says.

_1.. 2.. 3.. 4.._

He's not sure what he is counting for, not this time. He doesn't even know what exactly he said sorry for, he doesn't know what game his father means. What game is he playing?

"While you're at it I thought you could clean the bathroom, too."

His dad takes another large gulp of his beer and drowns it. Sebastian looks at the ticking clock, not even noon and his dad is drunk.

32.. 33.. 34.. 35

"Okay," Sebastian agrees when there's no elaboration as to why Sebastian would need to do this, he's not quite sure where his dad is going with this. His dad seems to forget what he asked Sebastian to do right away, though, as he gets up and locks himself in the bathroom he just wanted Sebastian to clean.

So instead, Sebastian gets up out of bed and dresses himself in a simple pair of jeans and a t-shirt. It's May and it's unseasonably warm outside, which he doesn't mind so much, it's almost like he is in Paris again. Just almost.

"I'm just heading out to get some stuff," he tells his dad through the bathroom door, "so I can clean the bathroom when I get back."

His dad laughs, and Sebastian wonders what he's doing it sounds like he is nowhere near the toilet bowl.

"And how are you getting money to pay for those things?" his dad asks him, clearly from within the shower cabinet, but the shower isn't running.

Sebastian feels his wallet hanging heavy in his back pocket, where he keeps the credit card his dad can't know about. The credit card his mom is paying for.

"I'll figure something out," he answers instead.

"You little slut."

It hurts Sebastian less than it should, the way his dad sounds _so fucking amused_when he thinks Sebastian is whoring himself out. As if he would spend his money on _cleaning products_if that was the case.

Then again, maybe he would, because he would be fucking desperate if he would ever let it get that far. Thank the lord for his mom in Paris and the money she keeps sending him on a monthly base. Thank god for his dad thinking he's selling himself for it, otherwise it would just be confiscated for booze.

It's completely sad that he has his mom in Paris, in her beautiful apartment close the Montparnasse, with the beautiful overview of Paris and good schools around, but Paris isn't an option. Not anymore.

So instead of walking around Paris, France, with his head held high, enjoying the gorgeous weather it will probably have there today, he is here in Lima, Ohio, where it's not nice and warm but stuffy and sweaty hot, and instead of walking with his head held high he's facing the ground, walking towards his car and then quickly driving to some store where he _knows_they'll have something to make the bruises disappear.

"Do you have something to cover this up with?" he asks the girl behind the counter, gesturing to his purple and green shaded eye, and she eyes him with concern.

"You okay, honey?"

"Yes fine, just need to cover it up."

"Sure?"

"Sure."

She eyes him from top till toe once, before lingering on his face again, and then she walks away to somewhere in the back.

She comes back with a few different test bottles, asking Sebastian for his hand but he hesitates. He always hesitates nowadays, when someone wants to touch him.

"Come on," she says, "just give me your hand so we can see which of these fit your skin tone the best."

Oh. Right, she's a professional, he walked into an expensive shop and not a shady one. Even if it feels shady, trying to find something to cover up the black eye some alcoholic gave you. He knows it's ironic, that he's walking around with a credit card with pretty much no limit and a black eye some drunk guy gave him in a shabby apartment in Lima Heights, Adjacent.

"Okay, now…," She looks at him expectantly.

"Sebastian," he offers after a long and awkward moment of silence, "my name is Sebastian."

"Okay, Sebastian, my name is Lindsay."

He smiles, awkwardly again, he just really, _really,_wants to get out of here before he sees someone he knows.

Not that he knows all that much people in Lima, and especially not in this bit of town. He knows Greasy Jay who sells weed down his dad's street, he knows Gus the neighbor with the seven cats in the tiny one room apartment and he knows Santana Lopez, who lives five streets away in a far better house than he does. He's pretty sure she has her own bedroom even if she lives in Lima Heights. She can't find out about him living so close, though, she still thinks his dad is a state's attorney.

As Lindsay applies different kind of products on his skin, he stares at the clock over her head. He can't hear the ticking, but he does see it, which is almost the same.

She blabs on and on as he counts the ticks. He'll give her sixty seconds to let go of his hand again

_1.. 2.. 3.. 4.._

"Now this one is a little more expensive, but it will cover it better than the one I'll try next."

He nods, nothing more than that.

"So what you could do is blend them together and…," Sebastian just tunes out, keeps his eyes on the clock. He needs to get out of here, because every second spend inside is a second someone he _does_know could come here.

_35.. 36.. 37.. 38_

Like someone from McKinley, maybe even Kurt and Blaine. Ulgh, _KurtandBlaine._He doesn´t want to run into Kurt and Blaine.

_45..46.. 47.. 48_

That is to say not here, he doesn´t want to run into Kurt and Blaine here, in this shop where he is buying new and good foundation to cover up his eye. He doesn´t want to see them until his eye is covered up.

Just, not when he´s looking like this. It's Kurt and Blaine he's thinking about here. The guys that forgave him for almost _blinding_Blaine, the boys who reassure him day after day that it really is _not_his fault David Karofsky tried to kill himself (even though it so is). He does want to see them and he will, later, on their weekly Sunday coffee date.

_57..58..59..60_

"Just that one," he snaps and grabs something off the counter, which makes Lindsay stare at him with a hurt and surprised expression at the same time. Something in Sebastian's stomach squirms, he has to make it right. He always has to make it right when someone looks as hurt as this, otherwise it means trouble.

"The one you said suited me best," he corrects himself, "just that one."

Lindsay eyes him warily still.

"Are you sure?" she asks, "that one is the most expensive one."

He tries to appreciate her effort, realizes what he must look like, in a shirt that is obviously not the same dark color as it was when he bought it. Jeans getting too shor,t since he can't buy a new pair without his father getting suspicious. On top of that he does have a black eye that she can see wasn't caused by walking into a door. He understand why she doesn't think he can afford it.

"It's fine," he says and puts his credit card on the counter. He hates that he doesn't know how long he's been here now that he's taken his eyes off the clock. It's like without that knowledge he has no clue how likely it is he'll run into someone, now that he's lost track of timing.

She shrugs then, and handles the payment.

"Do you want me to cover that for you?" she asks and Sebastian thinks he might as well let her, she's obviously on to something and she's also probably better at covering things up than himself, so he lets her before he heads out to the Lima Bean.

When he gets there he sees Kurt and Blaine already waiting for him, tucked away on a couch in a corner no one ever really looks. Kurt is sitting straight, legs crossed and some form on his lap he's filling out. Some last minute college form, Sebastian figures. Blaine texted him two days ago that Kurt was rejected by NYADA.

Next to Kurt is Blaine, his loafers are on the floor and he looks positively like a married man, reading the Lima newspaper while his feet are tucked slightly under Kurt's right leg. To any passerby it may look innocent and accidental, Sebastian knows that's the closest to showing affection they ever get in public, it always looking accidental.

He hates it. If he was with Blaine, he'd hold his hand proudly and tell the world 'this is my boyfriend and I'm so in love with him.' Of course, Kurt's heart eyes already do that, but Sebastian is still allowed to dream about what he would do, right?

Not that he'll ever get Blaine, the guy is too hung up on Kurt, that much is obvious. So instead of wallowing in self-pity he sits down and acts like he doesn't care. He takes the coffee cup Kurt points out and takes a perfect large gulp before saying hello to either of the boys sitting on the couch.

"Long night?" Kurt ask and Sebastian shrugs.

"Didn't even go out," he says because he not making _that_mistake of lying again. He's become pretty good at lying in the past months, but he's learned better not to lie about where you are when friends could be there as well.

It was a good call, too, because right at that moment he jumps from a strong hand on his shoulder and is completely ready to cover his face, but he hears Dave's familiar voice asking him why he wasn't at Scandals last night.

"Missed you bud," he says, "it's no fun without you anymore, only old guys looking at me as if they feel sorry."

Kurt looks up at Dave as he hands him the coffee cup that remained untouched until now.

"What do you mean as if?" he asks, "don't they just actually feel sorry?"

"They just want to get into his pants," Sebastian says and Kurt looks scandalous, but Dave shrugs and nods. Kurt looks like he wants to say something, but instead he just goes back to filling out his form and Blaine hasn't even looked up at all during the conversation and remains buried in his newspaper. Why a seventeen year old boy like Blaine can be so fascinated with a newspaper, Sebastian will never know, but he likes it.

He likes that Kurt judges him and Blaine smiles so brightly and he likes that Dave says he's missed him, even if they do spend most of their nights on opposite sides of the bar anyway. He likes this little group they've formed, almost like he is normal and belongs.

"Do you?" Dave asks Kurt.

"What, want in your pants? No David, we've been over this."

Not even then does Blaine look up. Sebastian keeps watching him.

"Not in my pants. Do you feel sorry for me. What do you mean 'don't they actually feel sorry for me'. Do you still feel sorry for me?"

"No."

"Then what do you mean?"

Kurt sighs and though Sebastian isn't looking, he knows the way Kurt rolls his eyes and honestly, he can't blame him. Every time this comes up Dave gets defensive and Sebastian understands why, but he also understands it frustrates Kurt to no end.

"I mean that after, you know, after what happened to you a lot of people tend to feel sorry for you."

"I thought we wouldn't bring that up again."

"You did," Kurt all but yells and finally Blaine puts the newspaper down and looks between the boys. Sebastian's gaze is broken, realizing he wasn't looking at Blaine but at his watch, ticking away the seconds, and now he's lost count again.

"Come on guys, let's not fight," Blaine says as he puts a hand to Kurt's shoulder. Kurt immediately relaxes when he feels it and falls back against the couch.

"Sorry," he mutters to Dave, "I didn't mean it like that."

Dave sighs and says he understands. Sebastian knows how in love with Kurt he is, and how easy it is for Dave to forgive Kurt everything he ever does wrong. It's because he still blames himself for everything that happened to Kurt and so Kurt can do nothing wrong.

Sebastian looks around, now he doesn't have a clear view of Blaine's watch anymore, and looks at his friends. _Friends._

He can't believe he has friends now, and he has Dave to thank. Dave, who came onto him when he was trying to forget in Scandals, whom he insulted just because he _could._Just because it was someone who would be as hurt by his words as he is by his dad's words. He had hurt Dave to feel better about himself. Nothing he said was meant, it was just something he thought would hurt the most and boy was he right.

Dave was easy to hurt, just point out his insecurities and you have hurt him. Just like Kurt, Kurt was easy to hurt. Go after Blaine and Kurt was hurt, simple and easy as that, Blaine was a tool and Kurt was the target.

Sebastian doesn't do that anymore, no matter how gorgeous he still thinks Blaine is, or how he still thinks Dave could use some work before guys will actually start to like him, it's different now. Now he has seen the lowest of lows in Dave's eyes, there in that hospital bed where Dave was so surprised to see him. That hospital where Dave had just agreed to be friends with Kurt, and right then and there agreed to be friends with Sebastian, and they all know Kurt and Blaine are a package deal, and now somehow so are Sebastian and Dave.

Not that they are together like Kurt and Blaine, Dave is too hung up on Kurt for that and Sebastian really is too wrapped up in his own trouble to even think about really being with anyone, but Sebastian convinced Dave and his father that Dalton is the best place for him to be and now they're in Dalton together. Dave failing his year because of everything that happened, Sebastian a junior, they still have a year to have all their classes together, as well as Warbler practice and they even assigned for being roommates next year.

Maybe Sebastian can convince Dave to stay at Dalton every weekend, if Kurt is gone to New York, Dave doesn't really have anything to get to Lima for anyway.

"So are you coming?" Dave's voice gets Sebastian out of it and he shakes his head heavily, despite it hurting his eye, to try and catch up.

"I have to get some sheet music across the street, for my audition?"

Oh, right, Dave has his Warbler audition this week. Super pointless, as it's the last week of school for Dalton, but Sebastian had insisted they let him audition before there were freshmen to beat next year.

Blaine stretches his legs over Kurt's, before he sits up straight and puts his feet in the loafers.

"I need to get something for my summer Six Flags audition," he says, "I'll come with you."

He looks back at Kurt longingly, as if he wants to dive in for at least a kiss on the cheek, but in the end he doesn't and just smiles. Kurt smiles back and goes back to filling out his form.

"You picking me up tonight?" Dave asks Sebastian.

"Oh uh, no I promised my dad to help him out with some stuff tonight, I'll pick you up tomorrow morning."

"I appreciate you taking the major detour picking me up every Sunday night, but you don't have to get up half an hour earlier for me. Give me the address and I'll be there in time," Dave answers but Sebastian waves it away.

"No, it's fine, I'll pick you up."

"Okay, whatever."

Sebastian watches him and Blaine walk out the door, while sipping from his now cold coffee, all the while feeling Kurt's eyes on him.

"What?" he finally snaps, because he still likes Kurt the least of their little group, and he is still super irritated that the Lindsay girl saw right through to him and he's mostly super agitated that Dave keeps asking for his home address, because one day _no I'll pick you up_isn't going to be enough anymore.

Kurt just shakes his head and goes back to his form.

Sebastian tries to ignore it, the way Kurt looked at him like he wanted to say something, ask something, because it's Kurt and his annoying flawless face that somehow is so appealing to Blaine. It's Kurt who knows his coffee order because apparently friends do. It's Kurt who looks at him like he _knows_something at it fucking hurts.

"I got a job."

Sebastian looks up at Kurt, surprised, because he thought that would be something that would've come up when they were talking with the four of them, not just the two of them.

And now Sebastian thinks about it, he wonders if there ever have been a two of them at all, and he's pretty sure the only conversation they had between the two of them was when Blaine got so fucking wasted at Scandals and Sebastian was telling Kurt how to take care of Blaine. Because that's the one thing Sebastian can do, take care of a drunken person.

"Oh," Sebastian answers, not really sure what it is he's supposed to say here, "congratulations?"

"Yeah," Kurt continues, "that's why I'm filling out this form. I have a lot of things to sign and promise for this job, it's quite an impressive one I have to say."

"Oh."

"I have to swear secrecy for this job. I can tell people I work there, but not who I work with or what happens inside of that building."

"Oh." Sebastian is confused now, but he doesn't ask, didn't Kurt just say he has some sort of form of secrecy code?

"Aren't you going to ask where I got a job?" Kurt asks.

Sebastian shrugs.

"I have three talents."

"Changing the subject when I don't ask what you want to hear?"

Now it's Kurt's turn to shrug.

"I have three talents, Sebastian, my voice, my ability to spot trends in men's fashion and my ability to tell when it comes from a bottle."

"Impressive."

"And that goo around your eye? That's pretty damn good, I'd say you're quite experienced at covering up bruises."

Sebastian swallows heavily, but continues to stare at Kurt, there's nowhere else to stare, there isn't a clock around and he forgot to put on his watch in his hurry this morning.

"I thought I'd just tell you I'm working at Amelia House in Sidney, Ohio. It's a 45 minute drive away from here. An hour and a half away from Dalton. It's a house where runaway teens can get shelter."

Sebastian bores his eyes deeply into Kurt's, trying to find out how much Kurt knows, and all he sees is a weird determinedness he cannot place the meaning of.

"That's really good for you," Sebastian says eventually, "sounds like a wonderful experience."

"I'm sure it will be," Kurt answers, "I start on Monday."


	2. Chapter 2

"Your eye looks pretty bad."

It's Monday morning and Sebastian has just picked Dave up from the house he now shares with his father. Dave looks good, happy even, and concerned.

Sebastian doesn't take his eyes of the road, but does move his hand to the side of his face where it hurts the most. He really thought he had covered it up okay, he didn't see anything in the bathroom mirror this morning.

Then again, there is only artificial light in the bathroom and that tends to be different from actual day light.

"What happened?"

Sebastian shrugs, excuses forming quickly in his head. He's gotten quite good at that, making up excuses and have them actually make sense.

"Fight with this guy," he says after a few heavy seconds of silence, "it's why I wasn't in Scandals Saturday," he adds then.

He feels Dave's eyes on him, but doesn't take his own off the road. He's got another hour and a half left on this drive and even if he's good at lying, he doesn't enjoy it. His eye is throbbing and apparently obvious again. On top of that he left his dad with only half a bottle of vodka this morning. He knows his father has no money, he knows his father is an addict, so where that will lead to he really doesn't want to know.

He hates that he's worrying about this, about supplying his dad with alcohol, but he does worry about it. If he doesn't get it to his father he will get it one way or another. Mostly meaning stealing booze. Or maybe even getting weed from Greasy Jay down the road, if not something stronger. He will probably drive back after school tomorrow, buy some beer and leave it. He's off early anyway on Tuesdays, and starts late on Wednesday.

Dave doesn't talk anymore, doesn't ask questions and Sebastian likes it. It finally gives him time to properly think about what happened on Saturday night, what had led his father to give him the black eye he's currently not hiding so well. Dave's eyes are still on him and for some reason his thoughts are in whispers. Maybe because Dave is watching him, but probably because almost all of his thoughts are in whispers lately.

All of his thoughts except for when he's counting.

Saturday he had been sitting in the room by himself, working on his English homework when his dad had stormed in.

* * *

_"They're not paying me anymore!"_

_"What?" Sebastian had asked, not entirely sure __who __it was that stopped paying_ what_, __because as far as he knew his dad didn't have any sort of income whatsoever._

"_I have no money, brat,__ don't go '_what' -ing_ me."_

"_I'm not -," Sebastian started, but decided against it. Mouthing off to his father, even if it was as innocent as defending himself, it would not go over well._

"_How the fuck will I get my fucking beer now?"_

_Sebastian had shrugged, "I'll think of something," was his answer._

"_YOU?"_

_Not good._

"You?"

_Sebastian knew he was in trouble the second his father used that tone. That mocking, hissing noise that would shake any human being to their core. Never had he known a sound could be venomous until he heard his father's hiss. It has always been a sound with too much air, barely audible but ever the more so dangerous. Every time Sebastian has heard it thus far, it ended badly. Let him be warned, he braced himself for what was to come._

"_You think I need to be taken care of? You think I need your _help?"

_His father's face was close to his own now, the hot breath reeked of rubbing alcohol and it made Sebastian nauseous. His father's face was so close he could see the red in his eyes, the dark circles beneath his eyes and the tiny sweat drops on his forehead._

"_No," Sebastian said in a small voice, "of course not."_

_Sebastian wants to know why it was different, why his father got so incredibly angry he actually punched him this time. Usually it's yelling, calling him names and cursing, telling him he's worthless and the occasional shoving. Sure, the shoving had hurt a lot of the times, caused him to have bruised in weird places and that's how he got so good at lying._

It's nothing, it's from a lacrosse match. I got it during practice. Tripped down the stairs.

_So he is used to bruises, he is used to the yelling and the fear of what is to come. He even is prepared for a punch in the ribs. He knows his dad's idea of punishment for bad behavior is a punch in the ribs. Like when he thinks Sebastian has had sex for money. He doesn't go to the police, or talks him out of it. He hurts him._

_But this time it was different, he seemed more angry than before and Sebastian got scared. Maybe that's what went wrong in the end, Sebastian got even more scared than usual. Maybe he got so scared his dad could finally see it on his face, or read it in his body language. Before Saturday his father never seemed to realize he was scared. Now, in this new situation his dad had the upper hand. Or had he always?_

_With every word he said__Sebastian smelled the alcohol in his breath, the spit on his face and he started trembling, he was sure his face was pale and his pupils blown white from fear and adrenaline. His breath came __short and fast and his sweaty palms gripped tightly at the edge of the bed he was sitting on._

"_I don't need your help, you filthy little _slut_."_

_His dad spat the word out as if it cost him pain to think it, as if he had never taken any of Sebastian's so cal__led_ slut money_before. He took it daily._

"_It's all your fault anyway, you spoilt brat. You come into _my_house and demand me to take care of you."_

"_I don't understand," Sebastian said quietly, but his father didn't listen._

"_You come here and now _they_found __out and _they_won't get me money if I use it for _minors_?"_

"_Who are __'_they'_? __I don't get who you mean, daddy."_

_But his father didn't comment on that, merely kept his face close to Sebastian's and kept staring into his eyes intently._

"_You know what?" His dad h__ad said after a seventy-three counts of the clock, "you _are_going to help me. You are going to find me money because it's _your_fucking fault they won't help me out."_

_Sebastian still desperately wanted to know who __they __were and why _they_ gave his father mon__ey and why _they_won't give it if he uses it for minors, but his father grabs his face in his hands and threw him off the bed and onto the floor._

"_Get up!" he commanded, and so Sebastian got to his feet._

"_Now listen to me, you spoilt brat, no more money for you."_

"_I.. what?"_

"_I said, no more money for you. I know how you get your money. I know how you do it, and from now on you're going to hand it all over to _me_. __You're the reason they stopped giving me anything, and now you're going to get me money."_

"_Daddy__, I don't -," Sebastian hates it, hates calling him _daddy_like a little child, but in situations like this he has to. The younger he comes across, the less likely it is for his father to actually hurt him._

"_You're a whore, Sebastian, and now I'm your pimp."_

_That moment, it was worse than any name his father had ever called him, any shove up against the door or any punch in the ribs he had ever received. Hearing his father's _approval_of something like that, it's insane. His own __father __wants him to _sell_himself._

"_That's not what I do," Sebastian doesn't know what his father would do if he found out the truth about the credit card he holds, but to make his father think he is a prostitute is not what he wants. He'll tell his father he can get him anything with the credit card, anything. Maybe he would calm down in a few days and accept it. An addict has got to feed his needs, after all._

_His dad was facing away from him now, breathing hard and heavy, one hand scratching his chin as if he was thinking._

"_I have a credit card from mom, that's how I get the money."_

"_Don't fucking _lie to me."

_He never saw it coming, the hand that was previously scratching his chin. He didn't see it clench into a fist and only as it collided with his eye he realized his dad had hit him. Hard._

_Sebastian fell to the bed, hands clutching at his eye and immediately regretting the sound he made when his dad fist collided with his cheekbone. The neighbors all around must have heard._

_Then again, the noise of utter pain is a noise than often goes around in their building, coming from various apartments. To the neighbors this was nothing new._

_But it was to them._

_His dad started pacing again, saying 'oh god, oh god, oh god' over and over again, and Sebastian lay on the bed for 238 ticks of the clock, before he decided to leave._

_At tick number 300 he actually got up and walked to the door, reached out to turn the doorknob._

_That's when his dad had yelled out his full name._

"_Sebastian Benjamin Smythe, if you walk out that door right now it's over."_

.

* * *

"Jesus fucking Christ Sebastian, keep your eyes on the road!"

Sebastian is still not sure what it was _exactly _that made his father punch him, but he knows it has something to do with the _they _he kept talking about.

He focuses his eyes back on the road, follows the car he almost ran into seconds ago and tries to take in his surroundings, tries to figure out how far along they are.

Turns out, they are almost at Dalton. Sebastian sighs, thinks how lucky they are to get to school in one piece, considering he hasn't even really been paying attention since they drove out of Lima. He thinks they should be lucky it's just one straight road or he'd have missed a turn or exist somewhere.

As he does take the exit to Westerville, Dave speaks up again.

"I can help you with that."

Sebastian doesn't take his eyes off the road to give him a look, not when Dave just told him to keep his eyes on it.

"With what?"

"That black eye. I know you don't want questions, you're trying to cover it up. I can help you."

Sebastian huffs out something between a snort and sincere laugh, looks Dave up and down from the corner of his eye and wonders how serious he is.

"You? The manliest man I've ever met, you know about make up?"

Dave shrugs.

"You never saw the bruises on my neck, did you?"

"Why would you ha..- oh. Right. You covered those up?"

"Kurt helped me."

He looks almost proud as he says it and Sebastian's well protected heart makes a crazy flip inside his chest, before he starts feeling sorry for Dave. So in love with Kurt, never able to get the guy.

Kurt, a whole other story. Sebastian is still not sure what exactly Kurt knows or suspects and he is not comfortable with it.

He knows what Kurt was hinting to, hinting that the shelter would be an option for Sebastian, but he doesn't know _why _Kurt would do that. It's not like Kurt even cares about him in the first place. Kurt's only in this friendship for Dave and Blaine, Sebastian knows that much.

Not that he's been helping it, teasing and insulting Kurt remains funny, mainly because Kurt isn't one to step down from a challenge. He likes this little thing they have going on, this thing that is _theirs, _just like he has the car rides with Dave and the texting with Blaine. Still, he's pretty sure Kurt doesn't feel the same way.

He can't, if Sebastian was Kurt he wouldn't. No one in their right mind would trust or like Sebastian after everything he did to them. There you have it again. _Them. _He did it to both of them, as a couple. He tried to break _them _up and then injured _them._

"_I only injured Blaine, I didn't injure both of you."_

"_But you meant to injure Kurt."_

"_I said I was sorry, didn't I?"_

"_You don't get it, whenever you hurt one of us, you hurt both of us."_

Sebastian doesn't get that, he doesn't understand how you can be so fully attached to someone, if attached is even the right word to use. He worships it, worships them. He's jealous of how they do it. Jealous that they can.

Sebastian can't, he's tried, he's been on dates, but he can't let anybody in. He doesn't trust people, not when it comes to his heart. Not when it comes to opening himself up. Lying is his thing now, and letting someone in isn't part of that. Not in the romance way, only in the friend way, in a way where it is still okay to live with a series of white lies between the two.

And he and Kurt aren't even that close to consider him a friend, he's more like a friend of a friend. A friend between a group. So why Kurt would be the first one to figure this out, he doesn't know.

Maybe it's nothing, it's probably nothing. He's probably obligated to tell anyone with a bruise about the shelter.

Yes, that's it.

"Sebastian?"

He's been silent again, Dave must start to notice he's really absent by now.

"If your eye is really bugging you that much you should've let me drive," Dave offers, "I wouldn't mind."

"Of course you wouldn't," Sebastian laughs as he turns into the Dalton parking lot, "you've been trying to get me to let you drive since I first picked you up. I told you it's only insured when I drive it."

Dave shrugs.

"Yeah well, if you keep driving like this you better be glad you are insured. You're all distant, you're going to wreck it one of these days."

Sebastian shrugs and turns into an empty parking space close to the entrance.

"So you have that stuff with you?" Dave nods to his black eye, "I'll cover it up for you."

.

* * *

"As you all know, we are gathered here this very last day to allow my dear friend David Karofsky to audition for the Warblers, before he will have to compete with freshmen next year."

Sebastian stands before the group as captain, council gone and most of them nod in agreement, as if this really is an honest way to get in. If there was a council he'd have never got them to agree to let Dave audition midyear, let alone at the end and right before official auditions began. He still wonders how Blaine got Kurt in midyear.

"I'm not comfortable with this," Trent pipes up, the only one who _really _stands up to Sebastian anymore, "he's the one who sent Kurt here last year, I know what he's done."

Sebastian raises an eyebrow. Another person with a crush on Kurt, what do these people even see in Kurt? Sebastian is also quite sure Trent knows about Dave's crush on Kurt and somehow wants to keep his enemies away. Even if Trent is smart enough to know Blaine will never leave Kurt, somehow he'd still be able to fight with Dave over him.

"I think that isn't any of your concern. What happened between Kurt and Dave is solely their business," Sebastian replies. He just really, _really _wants Dave to audition and he also _really _wants Dave in the Warblers. These guys are nice, sure, but they aren't his friends. He could use a friend. They haven't been his friend since the slushy incident, and somehow they are harder to gain forgiveness from than the person who he injured in the first place.

Still, he has things on them and he knows how to work them. They might not be his friends, and maybe that's because he does play them like this, but they are okay enough people to be around and as long as they see him as someone superior, a leader instead of a friend, he is safe. As long as they think of him as a threatening thing not to mess with, they won't see his weak side.

"He made Kurt fear for his life, and now he's here? I don't think I want him in this room."

"We are a zero tolerance bullying school, if you don't want him in here he could turn you in to the school board for excluding."

Sebastian's not proud of the way he is trying to give his friend an in, but he knows how much Dave wants to be in the Warblers and he knows how much he wants Dave in here.

"Besides," Sebastian adds, "how would you justify, to said school board, refusing the person we dedicated our Regionals performance to?"

"Why does he have to audition now, why does he need to dodge the freshmen, is he bad? Because if he is, we won't let him in, Smythe."

"Jesus Christ, Trent, stop the drama. We are letting him audition now because, as I told you, he has had a rough year ad he could use some support and friends right now."

"We never let anyone audition midyear. It's auditions at the start of the year or not at all."

"Yeah, I heard Kurt auditioned when he didn't even attend Dalton last year, just in case he would transfer midyear."

"I'll never be Dave's friend, not after what he did to Kurt."

Sebastian raises the eyebrow again, he knows he look cocky and amused. He knows he looks like a spoilt brat who's getting exactly what he wants and maybe this time it he is.

"Did you know he and Kurt are quite close friends now?"

Trent's eyes grow wide.

"Yeah, they are great friends and I don't think Kurt would like it if he heard his friend was being discriminated against on his behalf."

Trent opens his mouth, looks like he's going to make a comeback but he doesn't. Instead he stares from Sebastian to the door behind which Dave is waiting and back to Sebastian.

"So, unless you want Kurt to find out you're excluding his friend, who's hit rock bottom mere weeks ago, I suggest you open that door and welcome Dave as if you've already given up your own spot in the Warblers for his talent."

Trent looks at Sebastian for a few more tense seconds, twelve ticks of Sebastian's watch to be precise, and then gets up to open the door.

Sebastian feels accomplished. He knew he'd get some trouble from Trent, but to know he still has them all wrapped around his finger gives him chills. This is the one place where he's in control. Where he will remain in control always.

Dave walks in unsure, nods to Sebastian who takes his place at the baby grand in the corner.

"Hello, my name is David Karofsky and I want to thank you all for this opportunity. I will be singing My Way by Frank Sinatra.

Sebastian starts playing and Dave's voice fills the room, it's a low and unsure sound, but it sounds like pure talent and ability. Only two lines into the song Sebastian knows they will not refuse Dave, not even if Sebastian loosens the leash he's got them on. They will want Dave in, even if it means giving Sebastian exactly what he wants.

Ten minutes later Sebastian isn't disappointed, all but Trent and Nick's hands rise up into the air when they vote. Dave is welcomed into the final Warbler rehearsal of the year. It's a bit hesitant, but he's in and Sebastian has a friend around.

He feels good.

.

* * *

His good mood lasts all Monday, he hardly even watches the clocks. All he does is count the ticks of the grandfather clock in the corner of his dorm, right as he falls asleep.

When he wakes up on Tuesday morning he can't remember how far he'd gotten and immediately feels that the good mood from Monday is gone.

He showers and right before breakfast Dave comes along, tells him once more how to cover up the bruise as he gently applies the concealer.

Sebastian mutters a thank you, but he hardly means it and they walk to breakfast together in silence. Maybe this is what makes their friendship work. Neither of them are talkers, neither of them are here because they want to be. They're here because they have nowhere else to go, nowhere else to belong.

Dave doesn't know this about Sebastian, but Sebastian knows it about Dave and that's why he likes he respects the way Dave so graciously walks these halls, even if everyone talks about him and Kurt behind his back.

Kurt was loved at Dalton, and if you are loved at Dalton you'll remain loved even after you leave. And even if it's an all-boys school, rumor and gossip still spreads around like wild fire. Everyone here knows Dave has had some sort of problem with Kurt. Most of them don't even know exactly what kind of problem, or the nature their relationship is right now. All they know is they are against Dave. They can't do anything to hurt him, can't say anything to him because they will be expelled faster than they can say they're sorry, but they sure as hell can refuse to befriend him.

Sebastian doesn't like it, doesn't like that Dave is alone at this school, alone with him. How they are both alone at this school. It's his fault Dave is here in the first place, it's his fault Dave can't remain at his old school, his fault Dave knows how to cover up bruises.

So the least he can do is be his friend and respect him.

Because it _is _his fault, no matter what Kurt and Blaine tell him. He's the one who rejected Dave so harshly, when he didn't even mean to. If only Dave knew why he did it in the first place. Why he _never _lets anyone in, even if everyone seems to think he lets people in daily.

He wishes he could tell Dave, but he can't so he won't. That particular secret is safe with him and him alone, the one thing he doesn't blame himself for.

They eat breakfast in silence and walk to the east wing of the school in silence. They part for different classes and today Sebastian doesn't pay attention to what the teacher says at all, he doesn't take notes and stares at the clock on the wall over the blackboard.

_Tick, tock.. Tick, tock.. Tick, tock.._

He thinks he's in history, but he isn't sure. All he knows is that it is 18.000 ticks away before he can leave home to go check on his father.

Five hours, 18.000 seconds.

_600.. 601.. 602.. 603.._

It's going to be a long morning. It is a long morning, but somehow Sebastian is able to avoid talking to anyone. In class he sits with his head in his hand, making it seem like he's having a headache, but really he's just listening to the ticks of the second hand on his watch.

_6769.. 6770.. 6771.. 6772_

In between classes he holds his neck with his hands, he pretends his neck is sore, as if he's trying to give himself a neck rub. In reality, he is still counting the ticks on his watch. He dodges Dave when he sees him, doesn't even trust his own voice to say hello today. All that's on his mind is the ticking of the clock and the state his father must currently be in.

_10,898.. 10,899.. 10,900.. 10.901…_

He spends the ten minute break after third period hiding in a bathroom stall, eating a granola bar and keeping an eye on his watch as it ticks away the final seconds before he can get to his car and drive back to Lima.

He sort of feels sorry for the teacher when he enters French class. He likes French and he's almost always participating quite well in this class. He knows the teacher likes him, because he speaks French fluently, he doesn't want to lie to the her.

Still, he walks up to her and says apologies in advance for his absent mindedness. He tells her he has a headache that will surely pass and takes his seat, eyes on the clock and left hand tangling in his hair, wrist to his ear.

_17,997.. 17,998.. 17,999.. 18.000_

The bell doesn't ring.

It's supposed to ring.

_18,001.. 18,002.. 18,003.. 18,004_

Eventually it does ring, 45 seconds later than it should. Sebastian feels even more off than he did all day.

He walks to his car, gets behind the wheel and drives to Lima thoughtless and feeling empty.

When he walks in with twenty four new cans of beer, a bottle of jack and some frozen pizzas, the room is completely empty. Only a great pool of sick on the floor indicates his dad has recently been home.

As Sebastian gags from the smell of vomit, he hates himself for stacking up on alcohol. He hates keeping his addicted father provided like this, he hates that he takes part in it.

But it's the only way to keep his father happy, and off his case, and out of trouble. If anything he wants to keep his father out of trouble. Maybe it's selfish, he's doing it for himself mostly, but his father in jail or rehabilitation would only mean he couldn't stay here anymore.

And if his mom gets wind of it he'll sure be on the first flight back to Paris. He can't be, he doesn't want to be. He needs to be _here._

When he checks the bathroom he finds another pool of sick, but no sign of his father. So while he waits for his father to return, or maybe prays for his father not to return before he's gone, he cleans up both pools of sick, like it's ordinary daily business.

As if he has done this every day since he was able to walk, he cleans up his father's mess and decides to mob the floor right away too, as that's the only thing he didn't get to during his cleaning spree on Saturday night.

As he looks around the room he notices there isn't really any new mess, apart from empty bottles throughout the room. No clothes, no rotten fruit and no half eaten delivery pizzas across the floor. He checks the fridge and finds none of the things he bought on Saturday night are even touched at all (apart from whatever contained alcohol). It irks him in the wrong way.

Why is his father not home? Why is the food uneaten, and are there no pizza boxes? Has his father not eaten at all? Where is he, and wherever he is, is he okay?

When he is finished with cleaning up, Sebastian is not quite sure what to do with himself. It's well past lunch time, just a tad too late to make it back to Dalton in time for dinner. So instead, he plants himself on the bed with the book he is supposed to read for French class, waiting for his dad to be back. He hopes his dad will be back in time for dinner, so he can force his father to eat something. He knows his father is still trying to mask his alcoholism, still thinks Sebastian doesn't know about it (yet he pretty much forced Sebastian to provide the alcohol last Saturday). So Sebastian knows that his father will eat something when he's around, if only to keep up pretense.

For a while he loses himself in his book, letting the stress of a difficult day disappear into another world, a world where he doesn't have to count ticks of the clock and where he doesn't have an alcoholic father. A world where his eye isn't still painful and black.

It's a nice world, where all that matters is love and the feeling of _new. _Sebastian in the real world doesn't like that feeling anymore, he doesn't like anything new at all. He's afraid of _new, _because look where new got him. He thought new would be good when he left Paris, nothing about this _new _is good. He knows that, he is aware his life isn't in any way good or even acceptable, still there is no way out.

A lot of the times he tries to correct the wrongs his father has done, in his head he makes up excuses.

_It was a friendly punch that was a bit too hard. He just lost his job, he'll get back on track when he finds a new one. He has an off day, it'll be better tomorrow._

Sebastian isn't stupid, actually he is quite smart. His father is an abusive alcoholic and there is no way around any of it. Still, this is the only place he can be right now, the only place he wants to be.

He _think__s._

That is not on his mind now, though, now he reads about a young girl in Paris, a girl looking for a future and finding love in a man much older than her. He loses himself in the Paris of it all, the French of it all. Sebastian doesn't really know how his mind works in this way, but somehow when he's in 'French mode', he doesn't feel so trapped inside a cage. He doesn't feel particularly lost without a cause.

It's funny, since France is exactly what he escaped when he decided to come and live with his father. Sebastian grew up with both his parents until the age of five, his mum being a wealthy Parisian and his father being an Ohio-based state's attorney. His mom came from old money, had always known money, where his father earned all if it on his own, his father was a wealthy man of new money.

They raised Sebastian bilingual, his mother only ever speaking French to him and his father always speaking English. When he was five, Sebastian doesn't really remember the reason, his mom packed their suitcases and took Sebastian to live in Paris. 'Old money and new money don't go together', she always told Sebastian. He never quite knew until he saw it with his own eyes. He knows now what she meant, and he knows now she was right to leave.

He can't, though, he can't leave his father now and his mother understands. Maybe not to the extent where she knows about the alcohol problems, but it took her 8 years and a child to leave this man, it will take Sebastian something more than this as well.

Sebastian admires his mother and whenever he's in 'French mode' (thinking, speaking and/or reading in French), he is reminded of her. He feels warmth and love when the language floods through his mind. French and English are both so natural for him, whenever he sees a French word somewhere his mind clicks into French mode automatically. Most of the times he doesn't even notice whether he's thinking in French or English, only when he consciously pays attention.

Still, the feeling he has when he's in French mode rather than English mode is great. The feeling of warmth, love and safety. He gave that up for what English mode now represents and unfortunately, will keep representing for as long as he doesn't escape this life he's in right now.

He's not planning to escape it, not anytime soon because as much as French mode calls love, warmth and safety to mind, Paris doesn't. Not anymore.

So instead of fleeing, he buries himself in a French book, in French mode where he doesn't have to count the ticks of the clock to feel safe, where no ultimatums are set and where love and romance are the most important thing in the world. Because just like warmth and safety, love and romance only have a place in French mode.

English mode shuts everyone out.

Unfortunately, French mode doesn't just make Sebastian feel safe and warm, it also makes him unaware of his surroundings. So when his father stumbles through the door, he glances at his watch to see it is already well past midnight. He didn't even notice he was hungry until now.

He got lost in his book, in another world. A world where his father wouldn't stumble in the door drunk with a dark haired woman in his tail.

The woman's arms are wound tight around his father's waist, her pitch black hair is tied back, tight and with a scrunchy, it sits on top of her head. Her eyebrows are obviously penciled on and her whole face is covered in a glittery, glowing type of foundation. Even if Sebastian only learned how to apply make-up hours ago, he knows this is not what his old money, Parisian mother would approve of.

His father is playing with the woman's fingers that are interwoven just above his belt. Sebastian can hear him giggling as he is still stumbling towards the bed (and Sebastian,) never looking up from the fingers he is playing with.

"Uhh- Gerald?"

His father whispers a yes as he turns around inside the woman's arms, he throws his arms around her and starts kissing up and down her neck.

"There's a kid on your bed," she says.

"fuck – fucking.. – hate, - fuck this," his father frees himself from the woman's arms and turns around to face Sebastian.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" he asks, almost calmly but Sebastian knows that venomous tone better than maybe anything in the world. It's only a matter of time before his father either gets violent or locks himself up in the bathroom.

_1… 2… 3.. 4…_

The woman is still awkwardly standing in the door opening, as if she's not quite sure who Sebastian is and why he's here.

"I just came home because I thought it would be nice," Sebastian offers and it doesn't go over well. He sees the shift in his father's face, where he goes from annoyed disbelief to utter anger.

He turns around, somehow keeps calm and addressed the woman.

"Angela, I would like you to meet my son Sebastian."

"A son? You never told me you had a son."

She rushes past his father and extents a hand for Sebastian to shake. She wobbles a bit on the high heels and finally gives Sebastian a weak hand as she introduces herself as Angela.

She leans forward and his nose is almost buried in her cleavage as she pinches his cheeks as if he is a toddler visiting his most awful aunt.

"Aren't you a cutie pie, just like your dad," she half screams and the smell of alcohol reeks almost as strong as it usually does from his father's mouth.

After she's done fussing over Sebastian's hair and pinching his cheeks, she kicks off her shoes and sets herself next to Sebastian on the bed.

"So you come her often?" she asks.

"I live here," Sebastian replies.

"Gerald never told me he had a son."

"So you said," Sebastian replies and he doesn't know why he's hurt by this, he really doesn't. It's not like he expected his father to have a girlfriend, let alone have her know about him. After all, he didn't know about her until a minute ago either.

_89.. 90.. 91.. 92_

Sebastian does not feel comfortable at all with this situation and it isn't very long until he is proven right to be.

"Fuck," his dad curses from where he is still standing, "you weren't supposed to be here. You aren't supposed to be here during the week."

Sebastian makes to stand up, but his dad pushes him back on the bed.

"No, no, you wanted to surprise me. I'm not going to ruin your surprise."

For people who have no idea who his father is, or for people who still see him as the ever rich state's attorney he once was, it would seem nice. His father not wanting to screw up his surprise. His dad making time for him.

But Sebastian hears the undertone and by the way the woman tenses up next to him, he thinks Angela is very familiar with the undertone as well.

"Angela, if you leave me and my son alone, he was surprising me."

"I'm sure I can stay," she says with her voice as tense as Sebastian has been feeling since they first stumbled in, "I'd love to get to know your son."

"Another time, maybe," his father answers without taking his eyes off Sebastian.

"No, I'm staying," Angela insists and gets up in front of his father.

"Angela," he warns but she stays firmly put so he grabs her arm and drags her to the door.

"I told you to go," he says, "fucking listen to me already."

All the while they are fighting, Sebastian focuses on the ticks of the great grandfather clock.

_234.. 345.. 346.. 237.._

As he drags her to the door she remains protesting, saying things like 'he's just a child' and 'please let me stay' but his father doesn't give in to her. Mumbling 'fucking bitch', he slams the door in her face, hard.

When he turns around all the calm demeanor and disguise are gone. His father face is pure rage and maybe even scarier than the way his face had looked last Saturday.

Still, when he talks he's calm. He sounds calm, yet his hands are clutched at his side and his right foot is tapping on the floor impatiently.

"Now tell me why you're really here," he orders Sebastian.

"I was out of school early, thought you would like some company," Sebastian says again, quietly as though merely the volume of his voice would upset his father.

"Right, you _just _drive two fucking hours to see me. Come up with something better, fucking slut."

"_Dad."_

Sebastian practically begs, but his father doesn't seem to notice and maybe it is a good thing, too, because Sebastian has no idea what he actually is begging for. For it to stop, for it to end. For Saturday back so he could've actually walked out that door. For it to have been over then. He regrets driving over to Lima, he regrets not getting back to Dalton after dinner time.

"What, you had a trick, made some money and decided to start _taking care of me?" _his father hisses as he looks around. "When I told you to fucking take care of the money I didn't mean _drop by during the__ fucking week."_

Sebastian wishes his father stopped cursing. Out of all the things he could think of in this terrifying moment, that is the only thing that comes to mind.

"Please stop cursing."

"Stop _cursing?" _his father laughs, "are you a teenager or what? I thought cursing was cool in high school?"

"Please."

That's when he receives the first slap in his face. It's a slap with flat hand against his cheek, it stings and his already black eye immediately starts to pound with pain.

Sebastian doesn't say anything, doesn't do anything but sit on the bed and facing the floor.

"Give me the fucking money," his father says and when Sebastian doesn't move his father slaps him again, harder, before grabbing his chin forcefully and makes him look into his eyes.

"You give me the fucking money right now or you're never allowed inside this place ever again."

That's it, his out. Sebastian can walk out right now without giving his father anything, without owing him anything, and he's gone.

Except that won't be true. If he walks out right now he'll worry about his father, he will want to know whether or not he is still alive. He will be back tomorrow or the day after that and even if his father is angry, when he runs out of alcohol Sebastian will always be welcomed back in. Maybe not warmly, but he will be welcome.

So instead he grabs his wallet and gives his father whatever cash he's got in there. It's not much, as he never wants his father to be suspicious and always pays by card.

Still, his father lets go of his chin to take the money and he counts it about five times before he seems absolutely sure he's got it right.

"This is it?" he asks, "this is what you let those perverts fuck you for?"

Sebastian isn't sure how much money it was he had in his wallet, but he is absolutely sure he _would never _let anyone fuck him for that little amount. Hell, he would never let anyone fuck him for whatever amount. He'd never fuck for money.

But to his father, he does, so he shrugs and doesn't say anything. It receives him another slap right in the face and this time it's so unexpected he yells out in pain as he falls sideways to the bed.

"You're not just a filthy slut," his dad yells, "you're a cheap one at that."

"Sorry," Sebastian whines as he clutches the painful cheek with his hand. There's no hiding it now, no acting as though it doesn't affect him. The pain is almost unbearable and his black eye is starting to swell, another slap and it'll sure swell shut.

"I raised you better than this," his father said as he waves with the few bills in his hands, "I can't buy anything with this."

"The fridge," Sebastian cries, "check the fridge."

"Don't tell me what to fucking do," his father says and punches him in the stomach as if it's daily business. "I fucking let her go for you, you sick little bastard."

Somehow the insults hurt even more than the slaps and punches.

"She was going to suck my fucking cock and then you have to go and ruin it."

"I.. it's..", but Sebastian has lost the ability to form full or coherent thoughts, let alone sentences.

He tries to focus on anything other than what his father is saying and for a while it works.

He has to start all over again though, he lost count after the first slap.

_1.. 2.. 3.. 4.._

"I've been keeping you a secret for ages. I knew she'd get like this. Fucking cunt knows you for two seconds and immediately starts protecting you."

_5.. 6.. 7.. 8.._

"Wanting to take your fucking punches for you. Well fuck her. And fuck you."

_9.. 10.. 11.. 12.._

Sebastian sees the fist coming, but he wasn't expecting the force that would come with it. He yells out and clutches his stomach right where his father hit him. As he is squirming around in pain he falls from the bed, landing painfully on his right arm.

He screams out again and a foot kicks his stomach.

"Shut your mouth, fucking filth, the neighbors will hear you."

As if they'd care.

Sebastian is in so much pain, he's not sure whether he is in pain at all. He wants to clutch every painful place in his body but there are too many, yet he wants to just lay where he is laying and fall asleep.

His father doesn't say anything for a while, just walks around and grabs the bottle of jack from the counter to take a few large gulps. With the bottle clutched tightly in his hand, he keeps pacing the room.

_2754.. 2755.. 2756.. 2757.._

Sebastian is almost lulled into unconsciousness, most definitely unconsciously counting the ticks, as his father speaks up again.

"Nine fucking months she doesn't know I have a child. Nine fucking months she is okay with everything and the second she sees you she goes all in mother mode."

He takes another gulp from the bottle.

"You have to screw everything up, don't you?"

Another gulp.

"First, you show up and want to _live with me," _gulp, "next you become a fucking whore," gulp, "they find out you're here and cut my finances," a very large gulp, "and then she has to find out I have a son and I bet I get the guilt trip about her terminated pregnancy next time I see her."

Things should sort of click in Sebastian's mind. Who this woman is, maybe who _they _are, and why this woman came to his defense as if she were his mother. However, nothing does click. All he sees is the now empty bottle in his father's hands. He sees it seconds before his father does.

When his father finally does see it he growls, a low, hard grumble that emerges from deep within his chest and throws a sound of frustration and agony through the room. He smashes the bottle to the ground and it splinters into a million pieces throughout the space.

Sebastian immediately moves to get up, but as he does he leans his upper right arm on a sharp piece of glass and it pierces deep through his skin. It doesn't even hurt anymore, not as much as he'd expect it to anyway.

"Stay where you fucking are," he dad grunts and walks right through the glass to shove him back, his head hitting the sharp corner of the bedside table.

Before everything goes black, Sebastian feels a firing pain shoot through his head.

.

* * *

When Sebastian regains his consciousness hours later, his dad is absolutely, and luckily, passed out on the bed. Careful not to cut himself on more glass, Sebastian crawls up.

Everything from head till toe hurts. His whole body feels stiff from lying in the same position on the floor for so long, his stomach hurts from the punches and kicks. His arm hurts from the fall and glass that cut it, and he head hurts from where it banged against the bedside table.

He examines himself. His arm seems to still be bleeding, on his head there is a massive painful bump but no blood on his fingers as he feels it, so that indicates it isn't cut. The arm that he fell on is completely bruised and he can't move his fingers so he fears the worst and thinks it's broken.

His eye is throbbing painfully and he can't open it quite good. His cheek is still hurting and as softly runs a finger against it he feels dried up blood under his fingertip.

Softly, as to not wake his father, he finally cries. The tears streaming from his eye only make it hurt even more and as he tries to hold in the sound of sobs his chest starts to ache as well.

For 73 ticks of the clock he watches has father while he cries. But this man is not his father.

This is not the man he sees in pictures in his photo album, the one he left in Paris. This is not the man who threw him high up in the air only to catch him again, this is not the man in that video.

He may not remember his father and how he was with Sebastian, maybe he was always a bit off, but this man is not the man Sebastian always envisioned his father to be.

The man he thought his father would be would never, _ever, _knock him unconscious.

So Sebastian makes a decision, right then and there, that that is where he draws the line.

His father can call him a slut, punch him in the stomach and even give him black eyes. His father can drink as much as he likes but he _cannot _knock him so hard he's unconscious for several hours.

Quietly Sebastian gets to his feet, grateful that he never took off his shoes he steps through the glass and retrieves his book from the end of the bed. He gets his bag from next to the door and leaves his house keys on the little table next to it. If he leaves his keys, he'll never be able to get into here anymore.

He walks down the stairs towards the entrance of the building in pain, clutches the bar of the stairs tightly with his good arm. He feels the blood still streaming from the arm that is most likely broken, and he thanks a God he doesn't believe him that his legs are okay.

He is sore all over when he gets downstairs and starts to walk the two blocks away to where his car is.

When he gets there, he takes his phone out of his bag and dials the only number he can think off.

"hmhhh what?" it sounds after a few minutes of trying.

"I need to talk to Kurt," Sebastian immediately says.

"wmmwhat? I'm Blaine."

"I know," Sebasiant says, "I don't have his number. Please let me talk to him."

"Who's that?" Sebastian hears Kurt's voice on the other and of the line and for some reason, his heart drops to his stomach and picks up pace at the same time.

"Please," Sebastian begs in a whisper.

"Sebastian," Blaine says, sounding more awake now Kurt is up, too, "says he wants to talk to you."

There is something rumbling and then Sebastian is talking to Kurt.

"What's going on?" Kurt asks and Sebastian honestly thinks he sounds concerned.

"You still work at that shelter?" Sebastian asks with an attempt of lightness in his voice.

"I started yesterday," Kurt says seriously, "yes I still work there."

"Is there place for one more teen?"

"Where are you?"

"Kurt…"

"Can you drive?"

"I don't think so."

"Where are you?"

Sebastian takes in his surroundings. He's not ready for Kurt to find out where he lived these past months. Not entirely. Not until he's patched up and strong enough to tell the story.

"Is it.. Do you know where Santana Lopez lives?"

"Yes."

"I'm close to her."

"I'm picking you up, wait in front of her house" Kurt says. "we're picking you up, Blaine can follow us in your car. You need your car."


	3. Chapter 3

Sebastian isn't quite sure how he managed to get to Santana's house, but he does know his right side mirror is busted and there are most likely some dents and severe scratches on that side of his car as well. It's not strange, either, that he wrecked his car. He's driving with one eye swollen shut and one arm unable to move. Thank God he doesn't drive a manual.

His mind is still fuzzy, his head and eye both are pounding and he can't think straight. He's not even sure if he is where he is supposed to be.

Still, he lets himself slump in his seat and he closes his good eye. He takes a few deep breaths and tries to calm down. The way he crashed into some lamppost did not help his nerves very much.

He keeps repeating to himself 'what did I do, what did I do.' Because what did he do? Did he really leave his keys in the apartment, did he really leave his dad without checking if the man was still alive? Or did he check? He can't even remember and it's not more than fifteen minutes ago that he left.

Eventually the deep breaths become even breaths, and Sebastian is able to shut his mind off. That is, until someone knocks on the window. He is startled at first, but relieved when Kurt's face stares down at him, sincere worry all over his features. Sebastian scrolls down the window hesitantly. Yes, he's the one who called Kurt and drove over here to wait for him, but to have Kurt see him like this, it's a big step.

"How are you feeling?"

Sebastian tries to shrug it off, but the way he winces when shrugging hurts must tell Kurt enough.

"I'm sorry," Kurt says, "get out, you can leave the keys in the ignition, Blaine will follow us."

The eye Sebastian can still open grows wide, he wants to shake his head heavily but he can't.

"No," he whispers instead, "no way Blaine is driving my car."

Kurt chuckles.

"He's a terrible driver."

Kurt eyes the side of the car, then the mirror Sebastian had just busted to some lamppost.

"Looks like you're not quite careful yourself," he says as he motions to the dents in the backseat door.

"Driving with only one eye and one arm isn't exactly easy," he tries to say as snarky as he can. Because that is their thing, isn't it? The teasing back and forth, the 'I am better than you and you are stupid' thing.

Kurt doesn't seem to buy it, though, not tonight. Tonight all thereis to read in Kurt's face is worry.

"You _drove _like this? Jesus Christ, Sebastian," Kurt hisses and motions for Blaine to come closer.

"Open the passenger door," Kurt instructs and then Kurt himself opens the door on Sebastian's side. Sebastian immediately falls out of the car, into Kurt's arms. He hadn't noticed how much he was leaning against the door.

Good thing Kurt was there to catch him when he fell.

"Okay big boy, I need you to stand on your feet," Kurt says, voice strained as if he is carrying something heavy (and yes okay, maybe Sebastian's entire bodyweight is a bit heavy for the way Kurt is currently holding him upright), so Sebastian plants his feet on the ground as firmly as he can. Kurt's arm sneaks around Sebastian's waist and Sebastian sighs deeply as he feels the strong arm firmly taking care of him. Something about the care with which Kurt holds onto his waist with one arm, and uses his other hand to hold Sebastian's good arm, it gets to him. He hasn't been taken care of like this in a long time. No one has taken care of him since he moved from Paris, no one has ever felt the need to and now Kurt is here and helping him, holding him and shushing him when he's not even crying. As if Kurt knows that's exactly what Sebastian needs right now, as if he _feels _it.

"It's going to be okay," Kurt whispers, "just a few more steps. We're almost at the passenger's side."

When they get there, what feels like hours later to Sebastian, Blaine is there to help Kurt put Sebastian in the car. Sebastian doesn't want Blaine to see him like this, hates that Kurt brought him, but he has no strength protest and lets them take care of him. Blaine looks like he doesn't want to be here, either. His hair is ruffled and he's in just pajama bottoms and a tank top. Where the pajama bottoms hang low on his hip, Sebastian is pretty sure he put them on in a hurry and forgot to put on underwear.

He turns his head to take in Kurt's outfit, which is a bit more elegant. It's simple jeans and a fancy t-shirt, not really the cutting edge fashion he is used to from Kurt, but at least he is fully dressed.

When Sebastian is seated and Kurt managed to get his seatbelt on without causing too much pain on his right arm, Sebastian sees Blaine walk to the driver's seat and Kurt back to his own car.

"No! Come back!"

He sees Kurt laugh in the side mirror, and turn around.

"Please," Sebastian begs, "it's just, it's not just my car. I think I have bruised ribs and with the way Blaine brakes, it'll hurt. I'm pretty sure your driving will be better for my head and my arms and my ribs."

Kurt eyes Sebastian up and down, mutters '_fuck what did he do to you' _under his breath, and walks to the driver's side of the car.

"Blaine, you'll be driving my car," he says as he hands over the keys, "just follow us."

Blaine asks Kurt if he is sure about five times, indicating Kurt agrees with Sebastian on Blaine's driving style, but eventually he gets into Kurt's car and Kurt gets into Sebastian's.

"You don't even know if I'm a good driver," Kurt tries to joke, but the concern is ever present in his voice.

"You told me you've been driving cars around your dad's shop since you were tall enough to reach the pedals. I'm sure you drive just fine."

And Kurt does, he drives perfectly even. Everybody who knows Sebastian here in Ohio thinks he is some maniac who drives to fast and ignores red lights, but he really isn't. Hell, he is just extremely happy he is allowed to drive at all, since the age limit for driving in France is 18.

Kurt's perfect and smooth driving style pretty much matches Sebastian's, and Sebastian thinks that seeing a lot of wrecked cars in his father's shop must have helped with that. That and years and years of practice, which most teenagers do not have.

When after a while Kurt takes a turn Sebastian doesn't understand, that is _not _the way they are supposed to go, Sebastian gets anxious. He knows in which direction Kurt is headed, and that is not somewhere he needs to go right now.

"Where are you taking me?"

"To the hospital."

"No, no, no, no, no," Sebastian protests, "I'm not going in there."

"You have no choice," Kurt retorts, "look at your arm, I'm pretty sure it's broken. Your eye is swollen shut, you have dried blood down your cheek and on the back of your head and you complain about your ribs. You're going in there."

"No, I'm not."

"Sebastian," Kurt whines as he takes the turn onto the hospital's parking lot, "you called me at 3am, I jumped out of bed to come and get you. I'm not taking no for an answer."

Sebastian looks at Kurt now, _really _looks. Kurt is in just a fancy t-shirt and a pair of simple jeans. He's wearing flip flops for crying out loud, and his hair is ruffled.

He thinks back to Blaine going commando in a pair of pajama bottoms, matched with a tank top that absolutely does _not _match the pants.

"Oh god," Sebastian groans, "I called you during sex. You were having sex. Oh god I'm so sorry."

"What?"

"You and Blaine, you were having sex when I called and you stopped to come and get me. Of course you don't want to drive me further than here. Fuck. Sorry. Just, take me home and I'll come to the shelter in the morning."

Kurt is unbuckling his seatbelt now, and moves towards Sebastian. He strokes the good side of Sebastian's face with such gentleness, Sebastian can't help but to lean into it. The feeling of Kurt's hand is almost soothing, and for some reason the pain subsides.

"We came because you are our friend," Kurt says, "and we care for you. We are going to take you to the shelter. We will drive a hundred miles if it means you are safe. But for now, to make sure you are safe is to make sure you get the medical care you need. Please, come inside with us."

Again with the ´_we'._

"I can't." Sebastian answers.

"You have to."

"I can't," Sebastian repeats, "I can't go in there. They'll find out what my father did, I can't have that."

"Your father did this to you?"

"What, you thought I did this to myself?"

"No, no, just.." Kurt stumbles, "I thought some guy might've done it, with the way you sleep around. I thought maybe one of them got upset and knew where you live or something. I mean, we did have to pick you up in Lima Heights."

"That's where I live."

"You attend Dalton."

"My mom pays for that. My dad lives in a tiny apartment. You know the launderette a few blocks away from Santana? That's where my dad lives."

"Oh," Kurt looks rather shocked, apparently this is not what he was expecting.

"Why did you tell me about the shelter?" Sebastian has to ask when he realizes Kurt had no idea what his home life was like.

"We're supposed to. When someone has bruises as much as you have, we're supposed to. I always thought you had them from lacrosse, and rough sex, maybe an aggressive boyfriend."

Sebastian chokes on nothing in particular, and is even able to chuckle out a laugh.

"I don't have sex. At all," he says, not quite sure why he is telling Kurt all this, "people assume I do, and I never correct them."

"You're still going in there," Kurt nods towards the hospital, and Sebastian would thank him for changing the subject if that wouldn't make things more awkward.

"No," Sebastian says as firmly as he can, despite feeling weaker than before, now he let his guard down.

"Why not?" Kurt eventually asks after a sigh, and Sebastian goes to explain but a knock on the window on Kurt's side interrupts him.

Blaine is standing there awkwardly, most likely annoyed by the way Sebastian is still leaning his face against Kurt's hand. He didn't even notice he was doing it, but with the way Blaine is jealously staring at him right now makes him pull away.

Kurt turns around to roll down the window, says something to Blaine, leans out to kiss him quickly on the lips and rolls the window back up. Sebastian sees Blaine getting back into Kurt's car and drive away.

"You're going to pay for this," he says to Sebastian as he takes the key out of the ignition and gets out of the car.

Sebastian is confused, and takes a few deep breaths because the second he pulled away from Kurt's hand on his cheek, the pain had come crashing back.

Kurt opens the door on Sebastian's side and this time he seems ready for it, catching Sebastian easier and with more confidence as he falls out of the car.

"Now you're going to get on your feet, and you're going inside with me."

"Kurt…" Sebastian tries to protest, but he has no energy or strength to do anything other than whine, and so he lets Kurt lead the way.

"I'm going to regret this in the morning," Kurt mutters as if Sebastian isn't supposed to hear it but he does.

"Then don't do it," he says weakly, "take me home."

"What?" Kurt asks confused.

"You just said I was going to pay and now you say you'll regret it. You don't have to do this, take me home."

"I meant Blaine driving my car," Kurt says seriously, "I'm going to make you pay for letting Blaine drive my car."

"Oh."

Sebastian wants to laugh, he knows it is partly funny and mostly Kurt trying to keep up their endless bickering, but even _thinking _about laughing makes his stomach clench painfully. So instead he nods and says 'I have money, I'll pay'.

Because he does and if this nights causes Blaine to wreck Kurt's car, he'll buy a new car sooner than Burt can say 'total loss'. He'd do that for the boy who is practically carrying him to the emergency room on his own.

They end up in a room with a luxurious bed right after they walk in, the emergency room eerily quiet at 4am on a Wednesday morning. A nurse helps Kurt get Sebastian into the bed, before excusing herself to go and find a doctor.

Sebastian lets himself sink back against the pillow, happy to be in a bed but still not comfortable with being in the hospital. Kurt walks over to the sink and wets a towel that lies there. He gets back to the bed and starts to gently wipe away the blood on Sebastian's face.

He does so with sweet, soft strokes and Sebastian is pretty sure he doesn't even notice the humming beneath his breath. He doesn't say anything either, because he doesn't want it to stop. Kurt's voice echoes through the room like a medicine on its own, together with the gentle strokes it almost makes Sebastian forget he has a broken arm, and many more injuries.

_Many more._ Fuck.

He's pretty sure if they find out what's going on here, why he is in the hospital, they will have to call the police. Like, he's pretty sure it's some sort of policy. If not the police then some sort of social worker. That's not what he wants. He doesn't want that.

Sebastian is a smart boy, he knows how it works. They'll take him under his care. They'll get his father arrested and review his case. They will find out he has a loving mom and stepdad waiting for him with open arms in Paris, they will send him back on the first plane he is sure. That is exactly what he does not want.

What he wants is to stay here, next to Kurt, with Dave as his best friend and the Warblers as a place to let loose and sing. He wants Dalton and Dalton's zero-bullying tolerance. He wants the dorm he'll share with Dave next year, he wants Kurt to keep stroking his hair the way he is right now and he wants to sleep, so badly, that he almost lets himself.

But he can't, no matter how good it feels to have someone _care _they way Kurt does right now, he has to make sure to stay awake so he can tell the story himself. A story he has yet to come up with.

_I fell down the stairs _won't cut it, not with the way he looks, not with injuries that have '_I've been beaten by someone' _written all over.

Kurt is still humming when the nurse brings a young doctor in the room. A hot one at that.

Sebastian smiles instantly, because the fact he doesn't have sex doesn't mean he doesn't flirt. Look at the way he used to be with Blaine, with his teachers. He knows he has a way with charm and he knows how to work it.

"Hello Sebastian, I'm doctor Big," the doctor says and Sebastian feels the hand in his hair disappear as Kurt tries to disguise a snort into a cough.

Sebastian just smiles up at the doctor and says, "I bet you are."

The doctor gives him a tight smile and gestures to his arm, asking if he can take a look at it.

"What happened?" he asks.

Kurt takes in a deep breath, but Sebastian beats him to it. No way Kurt is going to steal his thunder and tell the doctor the truth.

"Some homophobic asshole beat me up when he saw us holding hands," Sebastian says firmly, almost even convincing himself.

"But we weren't - .." Kurt starts, and stops when Sebastian throws him a deathly glare with just the one eye he can use.

The doctor looks confused.

"We'll talk about it later, babe," Sebastian says, not wanting the doctor to be suspicious of his story, not wanting him to go ask Kurt for a confirmation. So Sebastian stares at Kurt and pleads.

_Please go with me on this one. Please pretend to be my boyfriend so this doctor will think that's why you interrupted me. For me, Kurt, please._

"Fine, my _hero_," Kurt eventually says with an ice cold glare that must be convincing, "not now."

Sebastian sighs, reaches for Kurt's hand to comfort him. _No, _he tells himself, _to pret__end we are together._

"The guy wanted to beat both of us, but he got to Sebastian first. I started calling the police, but when he saw that he left. I thought it was better to come straight here instead."

The doctor looks between them apologetically, then turns to Sebastian.

"Here's what we're going to do," he says, "we'll give you something to help with the pain, I am going to stitch up that cut on your arm and then I have a nurse to you up to x-ray."

And so he gets some stuff to help with the pain, and the doctor starts stitching up the cut on his arms.

"Can you tell me exactly where it all hurts and, if you remember, how that injury happened?"

So Sebastian tells as much as he can remember, adjusting the time and place of course.

"My ribs hurt," he says, "he punched and kicked them a few times. With this arm I fell on some glass, and my head fell to the edge of a wall."

_A nightstand._

After about fifteen minutes the painkillers are making him nauseous, and with the way he throws up all over himself the doctor concludes Sebastian has a severe concussion. He decides to admit him for the night.

Kurt makes a quick call to the shelter, explains where he is and what is going on and they allow him to come in as late as he wants the next morning, as long as he promises to make sure Sebastian is okay. This is part of the job, maybe not Kurt's exact position at the shelter, but taking care of the 'kids' is what they do.

So Kurt ends up staying with Sebastian all night, as his arm gets stitched up and put in a cast, as he gets more pain medicine and Kurt is also the one to wake him up every hour, making sure he doesn't slip into a deeper form of unconsciousness. The doctor even compliments Kurt for taking such good care of his boyfriend.

"Well, for better or for worse, right?" Kurt makes up when doctor Big (and yes, the name is still making him blush and giggle because _really) _asks him if he's really okay with taking care of Sebastian.

"Someone has to, with his parents gone," he doesn't lie, but doesn't tell the doctor just _why _Sebastian's parents are gone either. He wishes he could, he wishes he could tell and have Sebastian's father arrested and put away, but somehow he knows that's not a good idea.

So he tells the doctor another white lie, the hundredth of that evening, and turns back to the sleeping Sebastian. When Sebastian sleeps he almost looks innocent and it breaks Kurt's heart maybe more than it should.

He cups the good side of his face and starts stroking his thumb along Sebastian's cheekbone. Just because he wants to do something soothing. He wants to take the pain away, but he can't, so this is the closest thing he's able to do.

Poor boy, the Sebastian he resented so much until not long ago. The Sebastian who tried to steal away Blaine, the guy who tried to blackmail Rachel into dropping out.

_If you think about it, it's a compliment, he's afraid you're too good for them._

Maybe even then he knew Sebastian needed help, defending him like that against Rachel. Right now it is pretty obvious the boy needs help. Kurt had thought Sebastian would get a bad boyfriend eventually, with the way he makes everyone believe he sleeps around, he had never expected Mr. Smythe to do something like this to his son.

And to have done this ever since Kurt had first met him. He remembers the first night in Scandals, where Sebastian had to go home quite early, complaining he bruised his ribs during lacrosse practice, and that he was hurt. He remembers a lot of times where Sebastian was in pain, back pains, bruised ribs, headaches. After a while Kurt stopped believing it was all from lacrosse and clumsiness (because Sebastian was _not _clumsy, and that excuse Kurt got suspicious right away). Never did he think it was Sebastian's father who worked him up like that. He'd seen the crowd at Scandals, he would not have been surprised if it was one of them.

And if the fact that it is Mr. Smythe who's the guilty one is a surprise, Kurt was even more surprised when he got Sebastian's phone call. Not a moment he hesitated before jumping out of bed, ushering Blaine to do the same. And he's happy he did, even if he was sort of reserved about Sebastian until now.

Until he saw him in that car tonight, leaning against the side window with an eye swollen shut and blood all over. He's, well, happy is not the right word, but he is glad he is here. In this hospital, with Sebastian. Stroking his thumb down his perfect cheekbone and humming under his breath. He doesn't even particularly mind playing Sebastian's boyfriend for this doctor.

It's just so unfair, and Kurt has nothing other than respect for Sebastian. He's pretty sure he's seen the boy at his most vulnerable now. Hell, he's seen him puke and he's seen him in his underwear when they changed him into a hospital gown. He knows now that what he thought of Sebastian isn't true.

And as Kurt realizes how much things can change in the span of a few hours, he lets himself cry. Cry because of Sebastian, cry because of himself. Cry because he's hardly slept tonight and is tired. But mostly cry because he can't take Sebastian's pain away.

"Don't," Sebastian mutters when he wakes up.

"Oh, right, sorry," Kurt says as he quickly pulls his hand away, "just keeping up the pretense," he adds as he nudges his head towards the door.

"No," Sebastian says as he takes Kurt's hand and puts it back on his cheek, "I meant don't cry, it's not your fault."

"Oh."

.

It's a little past nine am when Sebastian is released, Kurt promising the doctor to take care of him.

"I'm not supposed to release a minor with this sort of incident without consent from his parents," the doctor had pressed, but Sebastian told the doctor his parents were in Paris. Just a little white lie on top of all the big ones.

Kurt wheeled him to the car, helped him in, and now they are well on their way to the shelter. The radio is playing softly and Kurt hums along to most of the songs. Sebastian lies with his head against the window, mostly because it hurts too much to keep it upright, but partly so he can fake sleeping.

The concussion and pain meds are keeping his head spinning, he is still a bit nauseous, even if he doesn't feel the need to throw up, and his mind is racing. He doesn't trust himself to speak to anyone right now.

In just 24 hours he went from being safe and sound between the walls of Dalton to being on his way to a shelter where he is fleeing from his abusive dad. With Kurt Hummel as his wingman, his trustee. Sebastian has a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach, a feeling he can't quite place. Maybe it's because he now has fled everything he knew and trusted. A home, a parent that loved him. All the hope that his father would recover, he left all of it behind him now. He knows he's done the right thing, he knows it is the only way, but he has not yet fully accepted that his home is going to _a shelter__._

For now.

When they get to the shelter Kurt still keeps quiet, gives Sebastian the space and quiet he needs. He helps Sebastian inside and introduces him to the girl behind the desk.

She smiles at Kurt and then at Sebastian.

"It's nice to meet you, Sebastian, I'll have someone take you to your room."

_Your room. _His room. Ready and waiting for him, because Kurt called ahead. A room he doesn't know and now he's going to have to recover in it. In this unfamiliar place that's going to be home.

Another girl comes walking up to them and Sebastian immediately recognizes her. He doesn't say anything though, hoping she won't recognize him.

No such luck.

"Sebastian," she gasps, "how did you end up here?"

"You two know each other?" Kurt asks.

"He was with me in the shop on Sunday, came to get concealer. Jesus, your eye is even worse than it was then."

"Yeah well, it received a few more blows," Sebastian says airily, not wanting to sound weak or like a victim. Mostly not wanting to be treated as such.

"Going to need more than one bottle to cover all that up," Lindsay jokes and urges them to follow her. They walk down a narrow hall, Kurt being pressed into Sebastian's side, but firmly holding onto his waist to help him stay upright. Sebastian doesn't have the heart to tell him he can walk just fine.

Sebastian is assigned to a small, single room. The bed is most likely too short for him and the walls are a dirty yellow color that indicate someone has been smoking a bit too much. The room smells dull, just dull, and the small window over the bed has curtains that are decorated with little flowers.

Sebastian smiles.

"Home," he whispers.

.

* * *

The first day in the shelter Sebastian doesn't do much, mostly catching up on sleep and trying to not be in too much pain. He called Dalton to explain his absence and then crawled into bed.

His feet dangle over the edge if he stretches out, but he usually sleeps in fetal position so he doesn't complain. Instead, he closes his eyes and tries to relax, tries not to think about the events of the previous night.

For maybe twenty minutes he even succeeds, and somewhere in those twenty minutes he drifts off for a short while, only to wake up sweating from a nightmare and in a lot of pain.

Around twelve o'clock Lindsay finds him in his room, staring blankly ahead.

"I thought you'd like a tour, see our facilities and stuff," she says, "if you feel up to it."

"I'm sorry about the bed," she says, "we have to make do with donations, and this was the only free bed. I can see if we can trade it with one of the smaller kids, I'm sure some of them have bigger beds."

Sebastian waves it off, however, keeps looking around and trying to take everything in. Something that causes his already concussed head to be in even more pain.

She shows him the bathrooms, which look a lot like public high school locker rooms. They walk through a few narrow halls which smell, at their best, chemical. They cross a small living room, crammed with couches and one small TV, and end up in a dining room. Sebastian shocked to see how many tables and chairs there are. All different, none match, some church chairs and some luxurious ones. Low tables for small kids, maybe toddlers, normal tables for older kids.

"Are there really such young children?" He asks as he sees two high chairs standing next to one of the tables.

"We currently have a few teen moms who got kicked out of the house," Lindsay explains.

"Do you think you're ready to go over a couple of rules, or do you want to go back to your room?" she asks as she gestures for Sebastian to take a seat at one of the tables.

"Rules sounds good," he says, "if I can ask you a few questions first."

"Of course," Lindsay answers as they sit down, "anytime."

Sebastian doesn't really know where to start, he has a lot of questions, about Lindsay, about the shelter, about the new life he's going to start.

About Kurt.

"What's Kurt doing here?"

"Well, he's one of us. He's still learning right now, probably helping prepare lunch. Lunch will be served in about twenty minutes from now."

"Okay. How about you, why are you here?"

"Because I think it is important that boys and girls like you get help, don't end up in the street. If there is anything I can do to help, I will."

_Like you. Boys like you._

"What about me, are you just doing me a favor because I'm Kurt's friend? I heard that shelters usually don't take in boys."

Lindsay nods, and looks serious as she answers. "Some shelters don't," she says, "there are a few shelters just for women. They are for abused women, women who have to flee from their husbands. Some of them are rape victims, others are victims of abuse. They are victims from crimes committed by men. Those shelters don't take in men, just women and their children. We are not one of those shelters. We take in teens who need our help, boys and girls alike."

"Okay, good," Sebastian responds, "I don't want to be anyone's charity or exception."

"You're going to be our charity work, whether you like it or not," Lindsay laughs and continues to explain as she sees Sebastian's confused look. "We're all volunteers. Everyone who works here volunteers. We do what we do best, I help kids settle in and make their room a home. I am someone to talk to. Kurt works in the kitchen. He's a great with budgets and planning and he's an amazing cook. We missed him with breakfast this morning because he was with you, but sometimes other things are more important. As you stay here longer, you'll learn to know more of the staff and people who work here. There's even a volunteer psychologist if you ever need one. She comes here for three hours every Saturday."

Sebastian goes to ask more questions, but the room fills with chatter. He looks at the great big clock on the other side of the space and finds it almost 1 o'clock. Somewhere in their tour Lindsay told him that is lunch time.

"Do you want to stay for lunch? Other days you have to, you'll have chores to. We still have to get to the rules. Today, however, I think they'll be fine if you just rest."

Part of him knows it would be for the best to head back to his room and rest. However, another, most likely bigger, part of him wishes to stay and watch all these girls and boys enter the room.

Two girls with little children, one baby of mere months old and the other maybe just over 12 months old and wobbling ahead of his mom. They are chatting freely, big smiles on their faces and 'ooh'-ing in unison when the one year old falls over. Behind them is a pretty, skinny blonde boy, who can't be much older than thirteen. He looks jaded, defeated, and much older than the thirteen years that his body betrays he is. Sebastian feels a tug at his heart when he studies the boy, obviously scarred far beyond his years.

"That's Thomas," Lindsay says, "he came here just a week ago. He still won't tell us why he came, and won't tell us his last name. We have a feeling he came from far because thus far he doesn't match any of the Thomas's that are reported missing in Ohio."

"That's… wh.. you check who comes in?"

"Of course," Lindsay says with a kind smile, she doesn't sound offended or matter-of-factly, just genuinely like an answer. "We have to. We've had kids coming in, saying they couldn't live at home anymore because their parents refused to buy them the new iPhone. Usually they are reported missing before they reach us, though. When these kids come in we tell them we need their beds for people who _can't _live at home, these beds aren't for those who _don't want to _live at home."

"What about when I turn eighteen?" Sebastian asks, "I'll be of age when I am, do I have to leave?"

"Nobody who isn't ready has to leave. I have a strong sense you'll be ready soon enough, though."

"And what about Paris? Can you send me back to Paris if you find out I have a loving mom and stepdad there?"

Lindsay smiles again, as if she knows.

"We can't force you to do anything. We can't force the iPhone kids to do anything either. We just give them a strong push. We won't give you a strong push if you look like this, we won't even ask what you're doing here."

She gestures Sebastian in his entirety, looking both apologetic and sincere.

"Okay, good, now tell me about those rules you wanted me to know."

.

* * *

In the end the rules were nothing Sebastian was surprised about. Simple things like 'you have to help with the dishes once a week' and 'you have to do your own laundry', together with 'we support each other', and , 'we respect each other's boundaries.'

Sebastian had stayed for lunch, watched Kurt serve it, and talked to Thomas for a short while.

Now he is lying on his bed with his eyes closed, still feeling a bit off and finally having figured out what it is that's got him feeling off. Yes, he is still in pain because his head is concussed and it was his father who caused it. Yes, he is still in pain with every breath because his ribs are bruised and one broken. Yes, he can't find a good way to lie down because whatever way he does, his casted arm keeps him uncomfortable.

Still, none of those things is what continues to eat himself up from inside. It's his watch that keeps killing him tick by tick.

_Tick, tock. Tick, tock._

Tick by tick he cannot hear. No tick tock, the glass on his watch is broken and the second hand is broken in two, as is the hour hand. There isn't a clock in his room and it all is eerily silent. It isn't home, not yet, even if it is.

There is no ticking of the clock, no photos on his wall and no clothes in his closet. There aren't any items he owns in this room except for the clothing he is wearing, the broken watch and his iPhone. His iPhone with a dead battery.

Oh, and a few pills the doctors prescribed him for the pain. He isn't sure if they are helping, since he still is in a lot of pain, but if they help he's happy because he's not sure if he could endure any more pain.

Sebastian tries to fall asleep, tries to just count inside his head, but eventually has to hum a melody and count to the rhythm of it.

_1.. 2.. 3.. 4.._

_1.. 2.. 3.. 4.._

_1..2.. 3.. 4.._

It's not ideal, but he makes do and finally drifts off for real, straight into another meaningless nightmare. He doesn't relive his father beating him, he doesn't relive that one horrible night in Paris. He just dreams he's being chased by a gigantic ball of blackness and feels maybe more terrified than ever when he wakes.

On the edge of his bed sits Kurt, awkwardly holding his hand and looking caught like a deer in headlights.

"Sorry," Kurt mumbles as he drops Sebastian's hand.

Sebastian wants to protests, but finds his voice hoarse and unable to form coherent words, so instead he takes Kurt's hand again and tries to look grateful. Because he really is.

"You just looked so scared," Kurt says in a whisper, "I wish I could take all the pain away."

Sebastian's well protected heart does a little jolt inside his chest as Kurt says it, and he moves to sit up and closer to Kurt.

"You do," he whispers back, "you've done so much, Kurt, you've saved my life."

Maybe they sit a little too close together for two boys who were mostly insulting and unfriendly teasing each other mere weeks ago, but it's comfortable and they don't care.

Or maybe they do care, maybe that's the reason they are so comfortable, because they finally admit they care more about each other than they let on.

"No one's taken care of me in a long time," Sebastian tries to explain, still not trusting his voice to produce more than a whisper, "no one has held my hand or told me I'd be okay. Having you say you want to take the pain away means so much Kurt, I don't think you understand."

And if Kurt thought he saw Sebastian at his most vulnerable covered in sick or shivering in his underwear, he had not considered to ever find Sebastian just awoken from a nightmare.

His left hand moves to the side of Sebastian's face, threading his fingers in Sebastian's hair as if they'd been friends forever, comfortable with touches way beyond _acquaintances, _as they would've probably called each other days ago. He strokes his thumb up and down Sebastian's temple, and Sebastian's face vividly relaxes.

_Tick, tock.. Tick, tock.._

"Can I borrow your watch?"

Kurt looks confused, so Sebastian shows him the broken watch he has lying on his nightstand.

"There's no clock in this room. I just want it until I have a clock or a watch in here, I like to tell the time with just one glance."

He can't tell Kurt what he really needs the watch for. _I can't properly fall asleep when I can't give myself a__n ultimatum and count it on the ticks of a clock._

Not with this thing they have between them now, where they somehow stopped judging each other the second Sebastian picked up that phone and called for Kurt's help. He's not ready to give that up and have Kurt judge him over something stupid like _I need to count the ticks._

"Sure, of course," Kurt says as he takes of the watch and hands it to Sebastian, "is there anything else you need?"

"Something to sleep in," Sebastian says without thinking and he ends up with Kurt's gym shorts (which are really ridiculously short on Sebastian's long legs) and an oversized McKinley shirt. Kurt reassures him that they are clean and he won't miss them, that he wasn't planning on hitting the gym anyway.

"What about the rest of your stuff?"

"Still at Dalton."

Kurt nods, "I'm hitching a ride with Lindsay tonight, since I drove your car here," he says, "we can swing by Dalton tomorrow and pick up the rest of your stuff."

"That would be great," Sebastian says, almost wanting to hold back on the sincerity, but not quite able to stop it around Kurt anymore.

Kurt smiles sweetly and strokes the good side of Sebastian's face once more.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Sebastian."

"Yeah," Sebastian answers sleepily, "see you tomorrow."

He drifts off to the sound of the ticking in his ear, even before Kurt closes the door of his room. He sleeps right through dinner and through the night, eventually waking up just before nine. When he wakes up his left hand is still pressed tightly against his ear, the ticking of Kurt's watch more soothing than any grandfather clock has ever been.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:  
**Dear readers, **  
**

I am so sorry for the long wait! This year has been absolutely crazy and I have had to work so so hard to stay in Uni, but I managed and now is the hiatus and summer holiday are coming up, so I'm starting up again! I can promise you this story isn't neglected, just hasn't been on the top of my priorities for a while! Don't worry and I hope you'll still enjoy!

* * *

"No, you stay here, just make a list and I'll get Dave and Trent to help me. You shouldn't be out of bed with your ribs and your arm and your head –"

"Kurt…"

".. and your face and your medicine, you should rest –"

"Kurt!"

".. as much as possible and I'm not going –"

"KURT!"

"What!?"

"I'm fine. The doctor said I'm allowed to walk as much as pain allows me to, and pain allows me to walk to your car and get in, have you drive me to Dalton and pick up my stuff. I promise you I won't do any heavy lifting, but please let me get out of here for a few hours."

"I really don't think it's a good idea," Kurt presses, taken aback by Sebastian's sudden force. It's just past 4pm on Friday, and thus far neither Kurt nor Sebastian have had the chance to swing by Dalton and pick up his stuff.

"I have to come with you," Sebastian pleads, "I'm going out of my mind inside this room. I mean, Thomas is nice and it's cool that Lindsay arranged for him and me to trade beds and the Maggie and Ali have really cute kids, but I'm going out of my mind, Kurt. I need to go out and be around normal people for a second."

"Normal people?"

"You know, rich snobby boys who take what they have for granted," Sebastian half jokes, but honestly, he really misses it. He's been at the shelter for a few days now, and it's been wonderful. Lindsay arranged for him to have a bed he actually fits in, Thomas turned out to be a really nice but shy guy, though Sebastian suspects there's more to his story he isn't telling, and Maggie and Ali have welcomed him like the true mothers they are. They've taken him under their wings, showing him the ins and outs and do's and don'ts of the place. It's great, but it's also grateful. He has to be happy with every meal he gets, with every shower he's taking and with every good minute of sleep he's able to have. He isn't used to being grateful, he is used to hiding his fancy clothes and fancy phone. He's used to hiding all the money he has around his father, but he is also used to being around other boys with iPhones and iMacs, boys who's hobbies are photography and making short films. He's used to being around boys who can _afford _hobbies like that, and he's used to being around people who won't judge him for having money. In here, he's ashamed of having money.

"Fine," Kurt grunts, maybe reading Sebastian's thoughts, "but you do not get to lift things. You will let me and Trent and Dave do that for you."

Sebastian laughs, even though it hurts his ribs.

"See," he says, "that's what you need me for, too, you think Trent and Dave could actually work together on something."

Kurt doesn't react to it, but reaches out his hand for Sebastian to take, and then helps him up from the bed. He goes to sneak his arm around Sebastian's waist. Sebastian wants to snap and pat it away, he really wants to tell Kurt he's not an invalid and is capable of walking, but he doesn't. Because the thing is, Kurt's hand is warm and solid, it holds him like he cares and maybe it's because he does.

Sebastian hasn't been cared for, _really_ cared for, in a long time, and so he lets himself revel in the small gesture of Kurt's arm, strong and solid around his waist. Sebastian tries to argue with himself, tells himself that Lindsay cares, but immediately his subconscious tells him that's different. Lindsay cares for him because she has to, Lindsay cares about the idea of him. The client, the boy who needs shelter, the boy who's been beaten up and used and more. Lindsay cares for him the same way she cares for Thomas and Ali and Maggie, and the rest of the boys and girls Sebastian hasn't taken the time to get to know yet. Lindsay cares for everyone who sets foot in the shelter. Of course, Sebastian assumes, Kurt does as well, though not the way he cares for Sebastian. The way Kurt holds him now, as they walk across the parking lot to his big black navigator, it's not the way one would hold a client, or a patient. The way Kurt holds him, it's as a friend. He keeps tugging Sebastian closer and closer, like he wants Sebastian to be glued to his side, forever safe. He holds Sebastian and strokes his hipbone lazily with his thumb while he digs deep in his pocket for his key. Even as he opens the door, it feels as if he hesitates to let go. It almost feels as though Kurt is doing everything without his power to keep Sebastian from straying. As if he ever would.

* * *

As they drive to Dalton another strange thing happens, Sebastian realizes, as he rests his head against the window and closes his eyes. They ride the long and boring road in silence, but not a second of it is awkward. Sebastian relaxes, for maybe the first time since his father had first slapped him. He is not as much shocked about relaxing in Kurt's presence of all people, as he is about the fact it is in a car while someone else drives. He never trusts people behind the wheel, ever.

With Kurt it's different, and Sebastian can't put his finger on the why. He'd try, but Kurt's watch still on his wrist is resting close to his ear and the ticking sound of the second-hand is still the most soothing sound he's ever come across.

_1..2..3..4.._

He'd ask Kurt why he drives with such ease, such finesse and confidence, but the ticking of the little clock, as well as Kurt's voice softly humming along to the radio, make it so Sebastian can't even keep his eyes open, let alone form a coherent sentence.

_9.. 10.. 11.. 12_

"See, I shouldn't have let you come," Kurt states forcefully, almost pulling him out of the peaceful haze, but not quite.

"Mmfine," he mumbles in response, letting his eyes fall completely and shutting himself off from the long, straight road ahead of them. The only thing that matters now are Kurt's voice humming and the ticking of his watch against Sebastian's ear.

_99.. 100.. 101.. 102.._

Sebastian's head is heavy and keeps bouncing off the window softly, and he could swear he didn't sleep, but he's only counted up to 2542 as he feels the car coming to a halt. He opens his eyes to the see Kurt has parked his navigator as close as possible to the dorm entrance.

"What do they think?" Sebastian asks, "about my injuries, what story have you told Dalton?"

Kurt looks at him confused.

"What did you tell them about where I was these past few days?"

"I haven't told them anything," Kurt answers, "I thought you would call them."

"My phone broke," Sebastian reminds Kurt, "how would I have called them?"

"Well, you're not my responsibility, Sebastian."

"I know, sorry," Sebastian apologizes and mentally slaps himself, since when does he apologize to anyone other than his father? Since when does he realize he is being unreasonable? "I guess we have to try and avoid faculty staff until I get a story," he half-jokes, though not really.

"You look like a train wreck, Seb, I can think they'll let you off easy."

And maybe Sebastian should focus on Kurt's words, agree or disagree with what he is saying, but Kurt just called him Seb and that makes for a very weird feeling deep in his belly, like a warm fuzzy ball nestled there, and he sort of likes it. It almost makes him want to reach out and take Kurt's hand, thank him (again) for all he's done and all he's doing for Sebastian.

"Don't get your hopes up, Hummel," he says instead, "they don't like my smirky little meerkat face as much as they do your angelic features."

"Angelic features, Sebastian, that's the best you could come up with?" Kurt sounds insulted as he says it, but leaves the car with a smirk on his face that tells Sebastian he is mostly amused.

Kurt walks over to Sebastian's side of the car, helps him out of it and keeps a firm arm around his waist as they walk up to the building. Sebastian still can't find the courage to tell Kurt he really, really doesn't need his support to keep upright and walking. Besides, Kurt smells nice, it's never bad to have a nice smelling, beautiful, strong boy's arm tight around his waist.

"I was thinking about visiting the psychologist tomorrow," he says, "you know, if she has time for me."

"That's good," Kurt says matter-of-factly and Sebastian can actually feel the air in the big parking lot getting thicker and the freedom he's felt since he arrived at the shelter grip around his throat as they approach the dorms. He isn't quite sure if it's Kurt's tight tone of voice or the fact he's about to walk into a place with five hundred rules he's not sure he can keep anymore (like never disrespect your parents and always keep your dormitory supervisor up to date on your whereabouts), but he certainly is starting to have trouble breathing.

"God, Sebastian, why did you insist on coming here?" Kurt asks the second he hears Sebastian struggling. The arm still slung a little too tight around Sebastian loosens a little and the hand of Kurt's other arm rests on Sebastian's good shoulder.

"Honestly, I'm fine, I'm just a bit nervous about what to tell Mr. Denver about where I've been this week. I didn't call in sick and I'm afraid he might've called my mom or dad to ask me where I was."

"You'll be fine," Kurt assures him again, "you've always been good at lying, I'm sure he will buy whatever you tell him."

Sebastian nods in agreement, fights back the tears in his eyes, unwilling to let Kurt see how much he hates that he's so good at lying. How much he hates the fact he's had to become good at lying, for his own sake, his father's. Kurt can't see that, not now Kurt's hands on his body feel so familiar and comforting, not now he is starting to admit to himself that he might actually be leaning on Kurt for more than just physical reasons.

"Let's go get my stuff," he says, sounding stronger than he feels.

* * *

"I can't believe you molested Blaine's room like this," Kurt says as he is digging through Sebastian's closet, "Blaine wouldn't be caught dead in here."

"Well, it's my room now, isn't it?" Sebastian bites back, lying on his bed and admiring the poster of the half-naked man he's taped right above it. Because the fact he doesn't have actual sex, it doesn't mean he doesn't look. Or jerk off. He does. Or did, before his arm was in a cast, right now he's just sort of frustrated. He even tried to get off rubbing against the mattress last night, but no luck. He's really just a hand kind of guy, and just his luck that his good hand ended up in a cast.

The bed he is in is comfortable, though, and as much as he'd like to keep staring at either the poster or Kurt's incredibly lean body (he's not quite sure if it's the deprivation or his newfound liking that's noticing this), but the grandfather clock in the corner of the room is so soothing, it's quite literally forcing him to close his eyes and rests. He hates how he is still so weak that a walk from the car to his room makes him so tired he needs to sleep, but the clock in his room sort of makes it alright. It's the first familiar thing he's seen or heard this week. It's nice.

_Tick, tock.. Tick, tock_

He's not really started counting yet, thinking he doesn't need it, when he's pulled from his lull by a sharp knock on the door.

"Sebastian, it's so good to see you," Mr. Denver tells him, sounding genuine and not in the least upset, "I had no idea you would be coming back already."

"I.. uh -," Sebastian goes to say something, but Kurt beats him to it.

"We are just here to pick up some stuff, he has a long recovery period ahead of him."

Mr. Denver nods and walks lets himself in the room to sit down next to Sebastian, who's sat himself upright on the bed.

"Take your time, boy, your grades are good. It's just two weeks left and you've already passed your junior year. How about you just pack everything now and join us again next year?"

Sebastian knows he should probably take the out, say yes and thank you without having to explain what happened, but curiosity gets the best of him. "Why are you being so nice to me when I've skipped school for so long?"

"Well, you look like crap for one," Mr. Denver answers earnestly, "but mainly because I know you need your rest. Being beaten up the way you are, it requires recovery, Sebastian. I have to say I was quite worried when your dad first told me what happened. I'm happy to see Mr. Hummel here is helping you through this."

"Of course," Kurt smiles politely at his former hall monitor.

"And it's good to know you have finally settled down with someone, Sebastian, all that sneaking out at night for hook ups doesn't go as unnoticed as you think it does."

Kurt looks at Sebastian confused, and Sebastian coughs loudly as he chokes on nothing in particular. Oops.

"So my dad called you?"

"Well we called him when you didn't show up Wednesday, he told us you guys just got back from the hospital."

"Of course, of course," Sebastian assures Mr. Denver, still confused as hell, "what exactly did he tell you, though?"

"That you and your boyfriend Kurt were sighted by a few homophobic people and you got hurt badly."

"Right."

"Isn't that what happened?"

"Yes, yes it is," Sebastian is quick to reply, "have you told any of my classmates?"

"We just told them you were out for a few days because you got hurt, and when they came complaining you wouldn't answer your phone we told them it was broken in the attack."

"Okay, thank you Mr. Denver," Sebastian says with, hopefully, a final tone to it. He lies back down on the bed again to emphasize his point. Mr. Denver seems to get it as he pet Sebastian's knee awkwardly before getting up and telling him to take it slow and keep his rest.

"I'll see you next year," he says as he walks towards the door, "have a happy holiday."

"Oh and Sebastian," he adds, turning around in the doorframe and focuses his eyes on Kurt, "this is the first time I've found your boyfriend in this room without him breaking rules, I trust you to keep that up."

"Rule breaking, huh," Sebastian teases after his hall monitor closes the door, "I bet he walked in on some kinky stuff."

"Shut up," Kurt hisses as the blush rises to his cheeks before the clock in the corner even ticks twice, "or I'll ask you about those sneak outs at night. I know you were not hooking up, I have a reliable source telling me you don't do that as often as you make people believe."

"You.. what? How do you know?"

"You seem to have forgotten half of everything you told me in the hospital," Kurt says with a teasing and knowing smirk, "I know things, Sebastian, so don't try and blackmail me."

* * *

Sebastian wakes up about two hours later to his bed dipping, and as he looks through his eyelashes he finds Kurt sitting next to him, looking up at Dave and Trent. Trent is whispering quietly, obviously trying to grant Sebastian his so much needed sleep. Sebastian, not in the mood to talk to Trent, keeps his eyes closed and hopes either Dave or Kurt will send him away.

He doesn't, of course he doesn't. From what Sebastian can hear, they've been in here for a while and wrapped up deep in whispered conversation. Sebastian doesn't bother letting them know he can hear them, mostly because he is curious as to what they'll say about him.

"He didn't even ask you about it?" Dave asks.

"No," it's Kurt's voice that answers, "and it's been like this since before graduation."

Okay, so they're not talking about Sebastian at all, and for a second he considers opening his eyes again, but that's before Trent speaks up.

"Can't it be because he heard about Sebastian?"

"Sebastian?" Kurt asks, sounding as surprised as Sebastian is about it. Who could have heard what about him?

"Well, that you two are a _thing _now."

Trent sounds appalled as he says it, almost hurt, and for a very large part a confused kind of angry.

"_Sebastian?" _Kurt asks again, sounding the offended kind of surprised, "Sebastian and I?"

There's no answer, and even if Sebastian can't see them, he feels the tension in the room. He can practically feel Kurt's body tense on the bed next to him and all he wants to do is reach out, touch Kurt and ask _is that really such a bad thing?_

But Trent and Dave are still there, and Kurt would freak out, and Kurt is with Blaine so yeah, people thinking they're together, _a thing, _would probably be a bad thing to Kurt. Even if Sebastian kind of likes the idea, people thinking he's a loyal boyfriend rather than a prostitute. If only the rumor would reach his father.

"We aren't a thing," Kurt says firmly and if Sebastian could see his face right now, he'd know Kurt was convincing himself just as much as he was his friends.

Silence, again, and the tension in the room hasn't faded in the slightest. Kurt starts shuffling restlessly on the bed, and it's making Sebastian feel anxious. The situation is making him uncomfortable.

He's spent other times in a bed, pretending to sleep. He's spent time pretending to sleep while the air around him was tense, just as it is now. Times where someone next to him would be so ready to lash out. Scream, yell, hurt him with words or hands.

Sebastian has pretended to be asleep countless times before.

"I think you should go," Kurt's voice breaks the silence in the room, though the tension only seems to thicken, and as Sebastian's face scrunches up with painful memories, he hopes no one sees.

It lasts maybe half a minute more before he hears feet shuffle and the door creaks as either Dave or Trent pushes the handle and opens the door. It lasts too long, why don't they walk through it, why doesn't the door close right behind them?

"Why do you think we're a thing?" Kurt's voice asks, and Sebastian's ears peak up. Still desperate for them to leave and to be alone with Kurt, and - oh -, maybe because of that.

Dave sighs, then says; "Sebastian's not been coming to Scandals much lately, you and Blaine have been unstable for about as long. You two never used to hang out and suddenly you're here, taking care of him and packing his stuff. Also, we heard he got beat up together with his boyfriend, but now you say you were there with him. It just.. it doesn't add up."

"I…, that makes sense."

"So you're sure, I'm just imagining things and you're not cheating on Blaine?"

"Yes."

"Okay."

"Can you please go now?" Kurt asks, obviously as desperate to be alone with Sebastian as he is to be alone with Kurt.

"Sure, but Kurt?"

"Yeah?"

"If you really don't like him, maybe you should stop looking at him like that."


End file.
